


I Don't Have a Choice, But I'd Still Choose You

by Remembrance



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cheating, Childhood Sweethearts, College/University, Difficulties, Experimental writing, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trans Character, Wild Ride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 19:12:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4931878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remembrance/pseuds/Remembrance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwazumi thinks Oikawa’s smart. Iwazumi thinks Oikawa’s funny. Iwazumi thinks Oikawa’s a dork. Iwazumi thinks Oikawa Tooru is a goddess and a trashcan, and nothing in between; he thinks his little unfortunate heart is wrapped around Oikawa’s finger. Iwazumi thinks he’s fucked.</p><p>But Iwazumi also thinks it will never work out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Have a Choice, But I'd Still Choose You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Resmiranda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resmiranda/gifts).



> So, note the tag experimental writing? Yeah! I really stepped outside of my comfort zone with this, tried a bunch of new things. Special thanks to Sekseedragoness and Nikooki who beta'd and looked over this fic for me. This is for Resy, and it seems to be a yearly custom now for me to post her birthday present exactly six months late. But, I am proud of this fic, and I like it a lot, so I hope you like it too!
> 
> * * *

**_Water, Horses, Onions_**  
   
 “Iwa-chaaan, are you cooking with onions _again?”_  
   
 “Yes. Shut up and eat.”  
   
 Oikawa pouts at me playfully (maybe), and takes a steaming bowl. He gets chopsticks for both of us and walks to the kitchen table.  
   
 “Stop making that ugly face,” I mutter as I sit across from him, putting my own bowl down. “It’s delicious.”  
   
 “Liar.” He shakes his head. “It has onions.”  
   
 “You liked them last time.”  
   
 “Well, yes, Iwa-chan, but that’s because you did something super special last time.”  
   
 “Maybe I did it again.”  
   
 Oikawa stares at me and tilts his head. Satisfied with that answer, he looks down at his meal and starts eating. It’s nothing special, really, just a bowl of noodles, some veggies, and a bit of seafood that was on special for protein. After a few nibbles he makes a happy noise and starts slurping the broth.  
   
 We’re roommates.  
   
 We’ve known each other for years; and, after high school, we went to the same university. He’s studying psychology while I’m in microbiology, with a minor in Greek and Roman Studies. We have an odd friendship… an odd, relationship, I guess. I’m not an idiot. I know. In fact, it’s rather hard _not_ to know when Oikawa tries as much as he does. Well, okay… Oikawa doesn’t try hard, not anymore…  
   
 But…  
   
 The way he lounges on chairs in questionable, lewd positions…  
   
 The way he licks his popsicles with maximum out-of-mouth tongue movement…  
   
 The way his hands ghost over my arm far too long when it should just be a brush of skin…  
   
 I know he has feelings for me. Truth is, I have feelings for him. But I pretend not to. I pretend not to know, and I pretend I don’t have these feelings. Why? Well… It’s complicated. I mean, we’ve kissed before, but…  
   
 “Okay these things are okay-ish.” Oikawa picks out a piece of onion out of his soup and holds it up. “But why is it blue? Is that bad?”  
   
 I can’t help but smile. “Because they like Poseidon.”  
   
 “What.” Oikawa stares. “Who?”  
   
 “Some dead Greek. Don’t worry about it.”  
   
 “Oh wait.” Oikawa tilts his head. “You mean one of those big macho gods with the statues that have small dicks?” He stares at the blue onion. “Water? God of water?”  
   
 “He’s… God of the Seas, and horses, and other things. When I was a kid…” I hesitate for a moment. We’ve been friends for so long that he knows almost everything about me, but then it hits me that there are things we probably _don’t_ know about each other too. “I asked my mom why red onions sometimes turn blue. It’s actually like… what’s that shit called? Litmus paper. That stuff that tests for acid or base. Red if acidic, blue if alkaline? Of course mom couldn’t explain that to a four year old kid, so she just said they really like Poseidon.”  
   
 “Huh.” Oikawa stares. “Your mom’s a nerd.”  
   
 “Yeah. We both know that.”  
   
 Oikawa smiles and picks out a shrimp with his chopsticks and holds it up. “Is that why you always put onions with your seafood?”  
   
 “Yeah.” I smile and swirl the soba noodles in my bowl.  
   
 “Your mom’s cool.”  
   
 “Thanks. She’s practically _your_ mom too.”  
   
 Oikawa laughs and nods, agreeing with me before he goes back to his food.  
   
 Oikawa and I… we’ve kissed, twice, actually. Both times, when his soft lips pressed against mine, it felt like the heavens parted and all of Olympus got down to suck our dicks. For me, anyway. For Oikawa – if he felt the way I did, which I think he did – it must have been the same but instead of the Famous Greek Gods, it was probably aliens.  
   
 “What’s so cool about those Poseidon people anyway?”  
   
 “Olympians?”  
   
 “Yeah.”  
   
 “You mean…” I try not to smile but I feel my lips quip up. “Besides the architecture and historical importance and the fact that—”  
   
 “No I get that,” he cuts me off. “I get it, like it was cool, but why not just… let them die, I guess is what I wanna know? Why do writers and artists and sculptors and everyone keep jerking them off, like they had their twenty minutes of glory – they aren’t Beyoncé.”  
   
 “Who?”  
   
 “American woman. Single ladies?”  
   
 “Oh.” I very much do remember that phase Oikawa had where he was constantly shaking his ass (in only tight underwear) trying to sing along with broken English to Single Ladies. I had to hit him with a pillow every morning or else we would be late for school. The sight was… quite mesmerising. “I know that song.”  
   
 He always claimed it made him feel better, which always made me laugh.  
   
 “Yeah. Anyway. I never got the whole point of everyone being so… hung up on some old stuff.”  
   
 “Well, mythology stories are the ones that have stuck around for eons. They make classic literature look like newborns.” I give him a shrug. “Besides the fact that they’re _good_ stories, the Olympians are twelve good characters. And even now artists can re-envision them again and again, and it still feels fresh. That’s got to mean something, right?”  
   
 “Hm.” Oikawa puts his finger to his lips. “I guess. Hmm. Maybe. You always liked those Greek dudes, didn’t you?”  
   
 “I like a lot of mythology,” I admit. “Norse mythos is really cool too. And the story of Izanagi and Izanami always sticks with me. There’s also that Chinese story of—”  
   
 “Okay, okay. I get it, I get it.” He huffs, holding back a smile. When he does that, I can’t help but smile too. He laughs and soon I chuckle. He sips his soup and then smiles at me—a real smile—“Okay so Iwa-chan’s a little obsessed, huh? That’s cool. Just don’t expect me to share your interest mister Poseidon-junior,” he says as he waves an onion slice at me.  
   
 “Don’t call me that.”  
   
 He then does his ‘Iwa-chan impression’, which is nothing like me, and it sounds like a four year old girl who was made even more high pitch: _“Poseidon-sama!”_  
   
 “Don’t.”  
   
 “I sound _just_ like you!”  
   
 “I will hurt you.”  
   
 He laughs again.  
   
 We begin eating again and shift into silence, minus the sound of slurping from time to time.  
   
 It was a big shift from high school to University, obviously. We had each other, we asked to be roommates in our first year, but I expected us to drift apart. We didn’t. Oikawa stuck to me. It reminds me of middle school: I had the same fear. When we got to Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High, we were lucky to be in the same class. The minute we walked in? Oikawa was friends with everyone, knew their names, knew their likes/dislikes… Me? I was a lot shyer back then. I became known as that silent guy who sits next to Oikawa a lot. Back then, I was sure we would drift away…  
   
 We never did.  
   
 I’m thankful for that.  
   
 We met when we were young. “Our houses were close” was our excuse, but that’s not the only reason. There were lots of kids near us (most of whom I’ve forgotten), but Oikawa was the only one I liked. Not only was he cool, but he was quirky and cute. Like me, back then, he was a bit of a loser, but unlike me—he didn’t care. When someone pushed him down on the playground and told him aliens weren’t cool, he got back up and laughed, saying _of course_ they were cool. He corrected them, as if it was objective truth, very proudly.  
   
 And so aliens were cool.  
   
 I’m not dumb enough to believe in love at first sight, but I knew from the first time I met him that I was at least interested in talking to him again, if not somewhat infatuated. It wasn’t _love_ , though. Love’s complicated. Love’s delicate. Real love takes time… that happened gradually.  
   
 Through elementary school, when we held hands on field trips…  
   
 Through middle school, when were still holding hands…  
   
 Through high school, when—yep—we still held hands from time to time…  
   
 Even now, I hate to admit it, but sometimes I feel his fingers weave into mine when no one’s around. I don’t want it to happen but it feels like all the pieces are aligning and the world is right and everything’s going to be okay and…  
   
 Anyway.  
   
 Love, which I feel guilty for admitting, even in my head, happened gradually.  
   
 Through our many sleepovers, tons of bad jokes, and the occasional hugs we had after long trips.  
   
 We also kissed, twice. When we were twelve we _almost_ had our first kiss. I can’t remember where we were or what we were playing—hide and seek, I think?—but Oikawa and I were hiding in a closet together (now that I’m older I find it ironic, because: closet), and we had to keep the lights off. Oikawa was squished next to me. He wasn’t afraid of the dark, but he wasn’t a fan of it (still isn’t). When our eyes adjusted, I realised just how much he was leaning on me. I leaned in, going for a kiss, and so did Oikawa…  
   
 But then, as if it was some sick twisted joke, the door opened and the moment was ruined.  
   
 After that I was determined to kiss him if I ever got the chance. But that was when things got complicated. We hit that age where it became… odd, for boys to be as close as we were. When we were younger, people laughed and said we were cute and innocent, then in middle school there was suddenly judgement. Maybe that’s why nothing happened until we were sixteen, braver, cared a lot less. When we were sixteen, that’s when we had our first kiss.  
   
 We were at a friend’s house and someone else had brought drinks. Neither of us had touched alcohol before, but seeing others drink, we thought why not? So we went for it. It was late that night when a girl (who had been crushing on Oikawa _hard_ ) said they should play spin the bottle. Oikawa, far too drunk, blushed and admitted it would be his first kiss. The girl (don’t remember her name) wanted it to be her, but Oikawa didn’t notice. He just said “Wait!” then grabbed me, pressed our lips together, giggled, and said he was good to go. She was jealous, I was stunned, Oikawa didn’t notice.  
   
 It was quick, but I’m telling you… those lips, those _fucking lips_ … sharp as a knife, soft as the inside of a rose… fuck. I get _chills_ just thinking about that kiss. It really felt like all twelve Olympians got down on their knees for me. Didn’t even have to cook onions to get Poseidon on board.  
   
 The second time we kissed… well…  
   
 That was our second year here, after Oikawa broke up with his boyfriend Kozume (who told me I could just call him Kenma, but that felt weird). I admit I didn’t know him much, but he was a nice guy. He and Oikawa had a pretty good relationship, actually. But Kenma, who was studying business, transferred to a university in China for some high-level internship program. Kenma was more than ready for something long-distance.  
   
 Oikawa… not so much.  
   
 Oikawa… acted out. He kissed me, roughly, in front of Kozume. He told Kozume to fuck off.  
   
 Since then, Oikawa’s apologised. They’re on good terms, but they decided it would be best to end their relationship. They’re just friends now. Oikawa was sad about it, but I comforted him. For weeks all I could think about was that kiss. I didn’t like being used to hurt Kozume, but I don’t regret that kiss. Nothing could make me regret that kiss.  
   
 The kiss was sharp, and searing.  
   
 His lips are a knife, but also the inside of a rose.  
   
 “Iwa-chan.”  
   
 I snap out of my daze and frown. “Don’t call me that.”  
   
 “Nuh uh.” He smiles, but then his smile fades. “Are you having a reaction?”  
   
 “What?”  
   
 “Seafood.” Oikawa poked his lips. “Your lips puff up when you’re allergic.”  
   
 “What? I’m not allergic.”  
   
 “Well you’re touching your mouth, figured you were worrying about that or something.”  
   
 “Oh.” I realise I must have been touching my own lips thinking about those kisses. “Nothing, forget it. Distracted.”  
   
 “Okeydoke, Iwa-chan.”  
   
 I sigh. I hate that nickname. “Seriously?”  
   
 “Oh come on, Iwa-chan. Been calling you that since we were yee little!” He puts his hand underneath the table. “I can’t stop now.”  
   
 “I hate it when you call me that.”  
   
 “Well I hate it when you cook onions.”  
   
 “Well, I hate it when you breathe.”  
   
 Oikawa burst into a laughing fit. “You would so miss me.”  
   
 “Of course I would, dumbass.” I realise my soup went from steaming to warm-ish. I finish it then. “Still hate you.”  
   
 “Yeah yeah.” Oikawa takes my bowl when I’m done and starts washing the dishes. “You know who I hate?”  
   
 “Who?”  
   
 “Suga.”  
   
 “Suga?” I pause. I blink. I tilt my head. “You mean Koushi-kun?”  
   
 “Mm. Yeah.” Oikawa turns the water off. “He’s just so…” He turns to me and crinkles his nose. “You know?” When I don’t agree with him right away, he pouts. “He’s just so… Like he’s got it all, in a way. Apparently he’s acing all of his classes, jerk. And he’s practically married to Daichi. I wouldn’t be surprised if they got engaged in the next year. And even now Shrimpy-chan and Tobio-chan both look up to him like he’s perfect. Ew, right?”  
   
 I stare at him, not sure what to say. It’s not Oikawa’s first bout of jealousy, and it won’t be his last. He probably won’t even realise it’s jealousy for months. This is what makes things complicated between us. _Oikawa is a good person_ , but _even angels have their dark sides_ , I guess. There is a part of him that’s manipulative, dark, almost toxic—a part of him I can’t stand. I know all of his positive traits outshine his negative ones, and I also know no one’s perfect.  
   
 Everyone has their flaws.  
   
 Even Oikawa, even me.  
   
 I can’t judge him for it.  
   
 “I bet,” Oikawa goes on, “He’s got like… a shitty home life, or something, you know? To balance it out.”  
   
 “No, actually.” I’m a little wary of saying this but I keep going, “His parents are really nice.”  
   
 Oikawa blinks once, twice. “You’ve met his parents?”  
   
 “Um. Yeah.” I take a long sip of water and put the glass down. “Anyway…” I need to change the subject. “I don’t know why you hate him, but it doesn’t look like you have a good reason to.”  
   
 “Okay well I don’t _hate_ him, Iwa-chan. He just pisses me off, a little bit. Like if we were walking down the stairs together, I might give him a little push. But only if we were near the bottom, like three or four steps or something. Of course I’d make sure he’s not holding anything that could break. Like I don’t want to hurt him, but maybe I’d tie his shoelaces together if he fell asleep. Then I’d help him up when he tripped. You know? That kind of level.”  
   
 I stare.  
   
 I stare because I don’t know what else to do.  
   
 “I’m kidding!” Oikawa laughs and rolls his eyes. “Don’t take me so seriously. It’s not like I’ll hurt Mr. Perfect or anything. Plus, if I _tried_ to trip him I’m sure one of your Greek buddies will do some divine intervention or something and he’d be fine.”  
   
 I open my mouth.  
   
 I want to say it.  
   
 I want to say it.  
   
 I want to say.  
   
 I shouldn’t say it—no matter what, I shouldn’t say it. The words dance on the tip of my tongue; it’s a bite that I just want to attack Oikawa with. I shouldn’t, but… Oikawa has a sparkle in his eyes. The kind of sparkle that says now that he knows I’m hiding something he’ll pull the words through my teeth if he has to. “I…” Don’t. “Well…” I shrug, pretending it means nothing. “Remember that time in first year? When you were a hundred percent sure I had a girlfriend I wasn’t telling you about?”  
   
 Oikawa zooms in at me, crashing against the table. “Ready to fess up?”  
   
 “It was Koushi.”  
   
 Both his eyebrows go up. He leans back. A fake smile appears on his face. “Kou-chan?” he says as if he’s always been referring to Sugawara that way. “Like… Sugawara Koushi?” He cocks his head. “What about Sawamura?”  
   
 “Yeah, Suga.” I clear my throat, feeling a dangerous chill tingle down my spine. “It was when Daichi was at another uni’, doing computer sciences, before he realised he wanted to do engineering and switched here. But, that’s… Anyway, yeah. We went out for a while. He wasn’t out yet, you know? So we decided to keep it between us.”  
   
 Oikawa’s face is hard to read. “Cool.” He turns away and walks to his room.  
   
 I feel like I did something wrong…  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 Oikawa decides to study instead of going out, despite it being a Saturday. I check in on him, twice (because Oikawa never studies on the weekend), and he eventually admits he’s more on his phone than studying. Eventually, I leave him alone. Good, is probably what Oikawa thinks. Oikawa isn’t even sure why that’s good. Maybe it’s good because Oikawa likes convincing himself it’s good. Alone in his room, he sits on his wheelie chair, feet propped up on his desk.  
   
 After playing with his phone, texting, listening to tunes, playing a couple dumb games, he finds himself going through his pictures. On his phone he’s got a folder dedicated to us. Mostly peace signs, from Oikawa, but from time to time I gave in and did it as well.  
   
 Oikawa thinks about Suga.  
   
 He rubs his tongue against the roof of his mouth, not noticing how his eyebrows are knitting together in the way that ‘makes wrinkles’ as he always says. His lips are pursed tight, completing his tight frown.  
   
 Oikawa gets up.  
   
 He walks to his door. He locks it. And, then, slowly, he peels off his clothes. First his shirt, undoing each button of his light-blue button-up. He takes it off, slowly, and forces himself to look at the mirror. To see himself. He’s never been happy with himself, really. He’s too tall, shoulders too broad, hips too small, sides too big. He feels his chest. He’s got abs. Pretty awesome abs, actually. When Oikawa grazes his finger on the chest of _other_ men, it’s always warm and soft and tough and… perfect. When Oikawa feels his own body, though, it’s sharp. It’s as if he’s covered in spikes, little blades sticking out of his skin.  
   
 Every man he’s slept with has told him he was perfect, more or less.  
   
 He soaks it up every chance he gets, but…  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 Oikawa sits in class, on his phone once again. He was texting me but my class started early, so now he’s playing games. He hopes that if he keeps his head down no one will notice him and he could spend the hour and a half alone; but, lo and behold – as always – Sugawara sits next to him, with a smile, and a small mutter of hello. Oikawa returns it then throws his attention back to his phone. The game with the butterfly and the flying pink leaves is just so interesting. It isn’t, of course, but if he has to look at Sugawara he might just end up punching the poor little thing.  
   
 He hates Suga.  
   
 He’s not sure why, but that doesn’t stop the boiling red bleeding into his veins, squeezing every ounce of his flesh.  
   
 Suga’s got it all. As far as Oikawa is concerned: It’s not fair, really. Amazing grades, great boyfriend, good friends… He’s got everyone from their professors to even Oikawa’s precious little kouhais in line to kiss his feet at every turn. Everyone just _adores_ Suga. Oikawa doesn’t understand why; Oikawa doesn’t try to understand why. He knows there was that one time Oikawa missed a class and Suga emailed him a copy of his notes right away, but so what? There was also that one time that girl (one of my girlfriends, Oikawa never remembers their names) got locked outside her dorm because her key snapped in the lock—Suga offered her a place right away, but so what? There’s also the fact that Suga always does corny things like helping old ladies cross the street—but none of that matters.  
   
 Suga’s a jerk, Oikawa decides. Nobody knows it, but Oikawa does.  
   
 Without thinking, Oikawa speaks out loud: “Maybe he sacrifices goats or something.”  
   
 “Huh?” Suga turns his head, blinking several times, eyes wide, alarmed. “What?”  
   
 “Oh, nothing, Kou-chan.” Oikawa just smiles. “It’s a mystery novel I’m reading. Trying to figure out the plot twist before I get there, you know?”  
   
 “Oh…” Suga forces a smile. “I don’t usually read books like that… but sure.” His smile wiggles a bit and he tilts his head. “What did you call me?”  
   
 “Kou-chan. Like Iwa-chan and Tobio-chan. It’s a sign of friendship.”  
   
 “Oh.” Suga’s smile brightens, probably making angel choirs sing or something.  
   
 Oikawa is convinced there’s evil intent hiding in there. Maybe the angel choirs are being enslaved. When Suga’s phone buzzes four times in a row, Oikawa stares. Maybe it’s fellow goat sacrificers? “Popular Kou-chan! Who’s talking to you? A cute girl?”  
   
 “Ah, no. It’s just Tobio,” Suga says. “He’s just trying to figure something out.”  
   
 “Tobio-chan?” Oikawa cocks his head to the side. If Kageyama needs advice, then who better than Oikawa-senpai? “I can help!”  
   
 “Ah, no. It’s, um, it’s a personal issue for him.”  
   
 “Oh how personal can it be that his Senpai-extraordinaire can’t know about it?”  
   
 Suga clears his throat. “Um, very personal, Oikawa-san.”  
   
 Oikawa pouts and looks away. People are still pouring into the class, but it looks like the professor isn’t here yet. He’s one of those guys that come very early. Oikawa does his honest best to ignore Suga texting right next to him, but his curiosity grows and grows. It’s like bacteria, really. It might be a little spot but give it some time and it multiplies exponentially. Oikawa realises he just can’t be blamed if curiosity overtakes him (after all, he just thought of a really cool metaphor-thing).  
   
 Oikawa snatches Suga’s phone.  
   
 “H-Hey!”  
   
 “Let’s see!” Oikawa spins in his chair so his feet are between him and Suga. He stretches them out as a little barrier and begins reading the message. His eyes light up like fireworks. “Oooo! Wow, little Tobio-chan’s got some romance problems, huh?”  
   
 “Oikawa!” Suga yanks his phone back and holds it against his chest. “Those… those were private messages.”  
   
 “Well, yeah, but I’m a love doctor thing.” Oikawa smiles, like a feral, and glances past Suga. “Speak of the devil.”  
   
 Suga glances over his shoulder.  
   
 A boy with orange hair joins them. Unlike Oikawa and Suga who are in their fourth year, Hinata’s only in his second year. Since Sugawara’s been helping him choose his classes, he’s already getting into some upper-level courses. “Heya.” Hinata grins and takes off his shoulder bag. He puts it on his desk and then takes a seat next to Suga.  
   
 “Shrimpy,” Oikawa purrs with a voice that could only mean trouble.  
   
 “Don’t,” Suga warns.  
   
 But Oikawa (and the rest of the world) knows any threat from Suga is moot. “What do you think of Tobio?”  
   
 “Kageyama?” Hinata blinks, looking at both of them. “Um… why?”  
   
 “Well let’s say—”  
   
 “Oikawa,” urges Suga.  
   
 “—that maybe Tobio-chan has a couple feelings for you.”  
   
 Hinata stares, blinking once. He shifts in his seat. His face is hard to read, which says a lot because Hinata’s always been the type to display his feelings right on his face (whether he notices it or not). Suga doesn’t say anything, waiting for an answer. Oikawa, too, is silent. Hinata looks around, still seeing no sign of their prof’. He scratches the back of his head. “Um,” he begins, but it doesn’t go anywhere quite yet. “I mean, I liked him… but that was high school… we’ve both changed a lot since then, you know?” His face scrunches up like a used napkin. “I mean I like him, and… I know he likes me, but I don’t think… I mean, he’s just kind of become, dull, lately… Not dull, but… I don’t, I really don’t think the two of us…”  
   
 Sugawara visibly deflates.  
   
 Oikawa reels back into his seat, muttering a soft “Ouch”.  
   
 The professor finally rushes in.  
   
 They don’t speak for the rest of the class.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 I know Oikawa’s been avoiding me. I just don’t know why. Well, I think I know why, but not really? It’s not the first time Oikawa learned I dated someone, so why was it such a big deal anyway? I don’t know. Is it because it is (was) Suga? As much as I want to (and I really do want to), I’ll never fully understand how Oikawa’s mind works. Whenever I guess I always feel like I’m ten steps behind. A part of me, when I was in high school, felt like there was no point. Why bother, right?  
   
 I bump into Sugawara in the line at the campus mini-grocery store thing. I’m buying some bananas and paper towel, nothing exciting. Suga’s buying a large salad (which is his dinner, once a week, which he’s going to eat in his evening class).  
   
 “I can’t stand him,” Suga mutters so suddenly, so _defeated_ that I’m a bit taken aback. Is he talking to me? Or himself? Is he talking about me? He seems to realise my confusion because he gives an apologetic look. “Oikawa-san, I mean… I know he’s your best friend so I don’t mean to be rude, but…”  
   
 “He’s unbearable sometimes, I know.” I don’t mind him too much, but there are times Oikawa drives me up the wall; to be fair, there are plenty of times Oikawa is utterly fed up by me, too. Our friendship does suffer from personality clashes from time to time, but hands down it’s worth it and most of the time it is stable. But… seeing Suga so… “What did he do this time?”  
   
 “Well…” Suga takes a deep breath. He takes a step forward as the grocery store line moves. “You can keep a secret, right?”  
   
 “Lips are sealed.” I make a show of zipping my lips.  
   
 That makes Suga smile.  
   
 Worth it.  
   
 “Cute.” His smile fades, though. “Tobio likes Shouyou.”  
   
 It takes me a second to remember Shouyou is Hinata’s first name. “The duo?” I think about it for a sec’. “They’d be cute together. I don’t know anyone else who’s gotten Kageyama to open up like that.”  
   
 “Well…” Suga cringes, scratching his neck with the hand that isn’t holding his salad. “Tobio’s been asking me for help, since he thinks – or, thought – Shouyou wasn’t interested, see? And Oikawa-san found out, and he just straight up asks Shouyou if he’s interested in dating Tobio… to which Shouyou said no.”  
   
 I bite my lip. My eyebrow goes up. “Really?”  
   
 “Yeah… I think it’s because, like, they used to compete a lot. And ever since Tobio’s realised he’s interested in romance with Hinata… he doesn’t like the idea of competing against Shouyou, but that’s what Shouyou loved so much about their friendship, so…” He turns away from me. He puts his salad down on the counter and quickly pays for it. He walks out of the store, looking back at me to let me know he’ll wait.  
   
 I pay for my own stuff and quickly join him. “Go on.”  
   
 “Apparently since they’ve gone to different universities…” Suga shrugs. “It’s gotten very, complicated. It’s gotten strange. Tobio doesn’t want to compete against someone he likes, and so to Shouyou he’s lost his ‘fire’ or whatever? Basically, it was a very delicate issue. And I was working with Tobio to get things on track, and. Just… why? Why does he do that?” Suga stares at me; he’s always been gentle but now he’s demanding an answer. “Why does Oikawa feel like everything is his business? Why can’t he back off?”  
   
 I’m not sure how to reply, really. The part of me that’s ‘the best friend’ wants to defend Oikawa—let Suga know that Oikawa honestly thinks he’s helping. Despite what the rumours say… Oikawa isn’t cruel. Oikawa isn’t mean. He messes up from time to time (who doesn’t?), but most of the time things work out pretty well.  
   
 But… at the same time… seeing that look on Suga’s face… It’s clear that’s not going to help. Suga rarely vents out his frustration (and even when he does, it’s more polite than this).  
   
 So… I shrug. “I’m not sure,” I admit. “But, he’s not a bad person.”  
   
 I hope that’s a good summary.  
   
 Suga pauses, looking at me. His eyes soften and he gives a little nod. “I know that.” He sighs, looking away. “I just… I don’t know. Tobio’s taking it pretty hard and… Anyway, sorry.” He looks up at me again, smiling. “I know he’s your best friend, I just… I’ve gotta run, got a class.”  
   
 “Cross-cultural psychology, right?”  
   
 Suga pauses, again, but this time he does it while smiling. “I’m surprised you remember.” He laughs and his lips tug into a smile. He leans over and kisses my cheek before saying goodbye and heading off.  
   
 I grin and wave back. Dating Suga was great, actually. But we ended up realising that it wasn’t quite ‘love’ between us. I have a feeling it could have been for Suga, but… but I kept thinking about Oikawa. When we dated it was more like great friends going for dinner together, that occasionally kissed… a lot. We never had sex, though, but I never really cared about that. We were both in our first year, feeling a little lost after the transition and living away from home.  
   
 We found… solace, in each other, I guess.  
   
 I think back, reminiscing.  
   
 I don’t realise Oikawa walking up to me—not until the best pair of lips in the world kisses my other cheek.  
   
 I blink once, twice, and stare. “What?”  
   
 “What?” Oikawa grins, a little sheepishly, cheeks with a dust of pink. “If he can then I can, right Iwa-chan?”  
   
 “Sure,” I say without thinking. I feel my cheeks heat up too. I feel the urge to lean in, maybe kiss Oikawa’s cheek back, maybe his lips. Damn to feel those lips on mine again… but I don’t. I don’t know why, but I don’t. I want to but I can’t. I just can’t. _Locked_ , I realised. _It feels like I’m locked in place._ That’s how it feels, so I go on with my day.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Messenger, Traveler, Thieves, Guides_**  
   
 Oikawa gets yelled at. Not literally. But close enough. Kageyama’s typing is pretty basic and his texts or emails never really express his emotions well—but Oikawa can feel the anger, seething, yelling, biting, clawing with its fingernails, trying to gouge out his eyes and leave him a bloody, tangled mess.  
   
 Oikawa knows Kageyama is just venting, so he lets his little kouhai get whatever he wants off his chest. It’s not until Kageyama brings up volleyball and middle school and how he never taught him how to serve that Oikawa’s pretty sure this will go on forever.  
   
 His message to Kageyama is plain and simple: _if u never had a chance with him then I just stopped you from wasting time, right Tobio-chan?_  
   
 Oikawa doesn’t get a reply after that.  
   
 He worries, a little, but he doesn’t mind. That’s how Oikawa thinks. It frustrates me, but a part of me knows he’s right. Like Hermes (yeah, 'nother Greek)—the Messenger God of Olympus—he’ll take the brunt of delivering the bad letters, being shot for being the messenger. But he’s right, maybe. Plus, I think a part of Oikawa wants Kageyama to suffer. Not a lot. But he wants him to suffer. If I had to put it in Oikawa words… Like he might trip Kageyama, but he wouldn’t push him down the stairs. He would push Suga down the stairs, though, but only like five or so steps—not the whole set of stairs. That would be mean.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 Things start getting weird between us, and I hate it. I hate it more than anything. Honestly… more than anything. Oikawa’s jokes continue, his smiles continue, his usual coming home shitface-drunk on the weekend continues, his staring at himself vainly in the mirror continues—everything continues. But, at the same time, it doesn’t. His jokes lose their brilliant edge, his smiles don’t light up the room, and even when he comes back from amazing parties he’ll go right to bed instead of staying up late to bug me.  
   
 I hate it. I hate it more than anything.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 Oikawa gets an exam back. He gets an A. He’s smiling from ear to ear, especially since Hinata is making all kinds of strange sound effects because he only got a B and “Wow Oikawa-senpai you’re so cool!” It makes Oikawa realise no one’s honestly praised him in a while, so he soaks it up with a playful twirl of his hair and an innuendo about offering extra lessons to Hinata wink wink.  
   
 Hinata doesn’t get the joke.  
   
 Sugawara also gets his exam back, but he’s not happy. He’s frowning.  
   
 Oikawa hides his smile and asks what’s wrong.  
   
 “Oh… it’s really silly. I got eleven and a half out of twelve but…” He flips the page. “I’m pretty sure I got this one right.” He points to the question marked incorrect and soon they compare exams. It’s an open ended question; both Oikawa and Hinata said the same thing (in a different order) and got all four check marks. Suga only received two. “I just don’t want to be _that_ student, you know?”  
   
 “Suga-san!” Hinata practically bounces. “That means you got a hundred percent! This midterm is worth forty percent of our grade—you should totally get that mark! I mean, you totally earned it! You earned every mark: You got the whole test right!”  
   
 And soon all the praise shifts to Suga.  
   
 Oikawa wants to be surprised and feel bad about it, but he can’t help but feel numb and wonder if this is the way it is supposed to be… or something like that. He praises Suga as well. He even ruffles his hair and encourages him to see the prof’ about the marking error.  
   
 Oikawa dies on the inside, but on the outside he’s smiles and laughs.  
   
 Oikawa wants to die, but he smiles.  
   
  

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 “Did you fuck?” Oikawa asks me one night.  
   
 I look up from the textbook about Micro-Processor Computing for my electrical engineering class (why is this mandatory for me? I have no idea) and blink. “What?”  
   
 Oikawa has a little swish in his hips and when he walks over to whisper in my ear I can smell cheap, sweet alcohol in his breath. “I asked you…” He puts his finger on my nose and giggles. “Did you fuck? You and Kou-chan.”  
   
 “No,” I answer, quickly. I don’t know why. I should have said something like none of your business! but I also think he would have ripped the answer from me eventually anyway.  
   
 “Mmmm, okay.” He puts both his hands on the table and shakes his hips, rocking his hips left and right. “How long did you guys date?”  
   
 “Um.” I swallow hard. It’s starting to click. “Six months, I think. Or seven?”  
   
 “Wow.” Oikawa blinks. “That’s almost a baby.”  
   
 “A baby is nine months, Tooru.”  
   
 “That’s why I said almost, Iwa-chan. I’m not silly.” Oikawa wags his index finger in front of my face, but then he pauses. “Seven months, wow, and you didn’t fuck once… not once… It must have been boring!”  
   
 “It wasn’t, actually.”  
   
 “Hm.” Oikawa walks around the kitchen, seemingly going nowhere as he passes the table twice, but eventually he stops and opens the fridge. “So.” He leans back, hanging on the fridge’s door handle. “What did you guys do? Play card games?”  
   
 I keep my mouth fucking shut. I turn my attention back to my textbook, trying to drown him out.  
   
 “Oh come on,” he _whines,_ “Just tell me. You guys had a G-rated relationship. How bad can it be? What? Did you smoke heroin?”  
   
 “No.” I glare. “We just went on dates and shit, okay?”  
   
 “Dates and shit?”  
   
 “Yeah, we just spent time together.”  
   
 Oikawa stares in disbelief, still hanging from the fridge’s door handle. “Did you at least like, jerk him off?”  
   
 “No.”  
   
 “Not even a little?”  
   
 “No.”  
   
 “Dry hump?”  
   
 “No!”  
   
 “Nothing?”  
   
 “Nothing.”  
   
 “Why not?”  
   
 I pick up my textbook and head to the library.  
   
 I’m not fucking dealing with this shit.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 Oikawa has a drawer that I’m not supposed to touch. We each have our own rooms, though they are small. We share one bathroom, which has all our bathroom shit from shavers to toothbrushes to absolutely everything. It has everything. We learned pretty early on that such a tiny, compact space needed to be organised. And it needed to be organised well. Neither Oikawa nor I were really big on super organisation, but we got it to work. Oikawa had turned to me, this was over three years ago now, and asked if he could have one drawer to himself. The small one. “Can I just have this one to myself, Hajime?" there was no tease in his voice, no playful nickname, nothing. I said yes, figuring it must be important, or something.  
   
 I’ve always been curious, but I’ve never been curious enough to betray his trust.  
   
 He just wanted one space that was entirely his; and, fair enough, why shouldn’t he?  
   
 I didn’t really care that much.  
   
 Honestly, my first thought was that it’s got to be something to do with shaving his legs or his pubes or something. Since we’ve never really talked much about that kind of thing, I figured maybe he was either embarrassed or maybe he didn’t want me to know or maybe he didn’t know how to bring it up. It’s hard to not know your friend shaves his legs, though. And he waxes his arms, since there isn’t that much hair there. Our arms always brush when we walk side by side.  
   
 His own space.  
   
 His own drawer.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 I’m not an idiot. It clicks… I should have realised it a lot sooner, but I figure it out. I know why Oikawa’s acting so… odd. Whenever I’ve ever dated anyone before, Oikawa never cared, so I thought Oikawa wouldn’t care this time either. I mean, yeah, it was Suga, and Oikawa is jealous of him (whether he realises it or not), but that’s not enough to start this whole charade. Gender never mattered to me, but I guess it does to him. It’s because none of the people I’ve ever dated before were _guys_. Oikawa and I never talked about sexuality. He got a boyfriend once, and I was cool with it.  
   
 I remember overhearing him talk to someone about it, _“I like boys, sort of, and girls, sort of, but not really, but sometimes!”_ I thought he was being funny or flirty, or stupid, but now I wonder if he was confused about himself. That was high school, so I figured he’d have it at least more figured out by the fourth year of university.  
   
 But, he’s always been a little weird about discussing gender and sexuality, and everything else. He never spoke about it to me (I never asked, never cared), but you overhear things when you live together. Back then, in high school, I didn’t care. I mean, at the time, I knew he was at least gay (he has a crush on me), so I figured he knew the same about me.  
   
 But I guess not.  
   
 That’s what Oikawa is focusing on.  
   
 I, however, don’t have much time to focus on it. Midterm season is coming up fast. I bomb my first one, getting under thirty percent, but my other three average to a high eighty. Oikawa does well, too, which I’m happy about.  
   
 Letting my guard down, I become stupid enough to think things would get better on their own.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Wisdom, Craft, Strategy_**  
   
 Oikawa wants to throw Suga down ten steps—no, twenty. Fuck it! He screams in his head: _Fuck it all!_ Oikawa wants to throw Suga down the entire flight of stairs. He wants to push Suga down the stairs and then tie his shoelaces so when Suga struggles to recover he trips and falls again. His anger cascades because of one realisation. A single realisation is all it takes.  
   
 It happens when I catch a cold. Suga cooks me an entire pot of chicken and shrimp noodle soup with plenty of veggies—“Especially onions since you seem to like them with seafood, Hajime!”—and brings it over.  
   
 And in that moment Oikawa realises why he hates him.  
   
 It’s in the moment where I am telling Suga that he shouldn’t have, but Suga is telling me that it wasn’t a problem, that Oikawa realises why he hates Sugawara so _—fucking—_ much.  
   
 Oikawa hates Sugawara because Sugawara is everything Oikawa wishes he could be.  
   
 Resourceful, kind, honest, friends with everyone, guiding others, helping others, loved by everyone, someone who loves everyone, someone who loves himself—someone who knows himself, someone who—  
   
 The list goes on.  
   
 So, like Athena—Goddess of Wisdom, Intelligence, War Strategy—Oikawa crafts a careful plan on how he’s going to break Sugawara.  
   
 Oikawa hates Sugawara _because Suga is a good person._ Oikawa hates Sugawara _because nobody else hates him._ Oikawa hates Sugawara because _he wishes he could be Sugawara._  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _War, Primal, Hatred_**  
   
 Oikawa isn’t an idiot. He knows he has problems. In high school, when Kageyama became a starting setter, all Oikawa wanted was to crush him. He knows that isn’t a proper response, but it happens time and time again. When someone one-ups him or might challenge him, Oikawa wants to _crush_ that person—hard. He likes seeing people _suffer._  
   
 Oikawa isn’t cruel, though.  
   
 I don’t believe his desire to see people hurt is because he’s cruel. He’s not a sadist. He doesn’t get pleasure from seeing them hurt. The truth is that Oikawa likes to see people suffer so he feels like his own suffering is normal. Oikawa wants to make other people cry so it makes it okay when he cries. Oikawa wants other people to wish they were dead so it’s not messed up when he feels like he wants to die.  
   
   
 And if Oikawa can’t have something, why should anyone else?  
   
   
 Athena is attributed to be the cool, tamed aspect of war. Strategy, planning, for honour, for justice. Ares—God of War—is primal, a red hot snap. The snap in Oikawa’s brain. The blood boiling in his veins, body shaking, rage bubbling over, spilling into every single one of his organs until his only desire is to destroy every-fucking-thing.  
   
 Now that he has a plan, he doesn’t think—he acts.  
   
 He’s already taken their schedules into account. Suga and I have a class together (music theory of all things… easy GPA booster). But Oikawa is free, and so is his victim. Oikawa’s body moves, legs move, heart moves. He gets to the door and knocks three times with a playful little rhythm, as if the door was his drum of war.  
   
 Soon enough, though, the door opens.  
   
 Daichi.  
   
 Daichi smiles. “Oikawa-san. How can I help you?”  
   
 And Oikawa moves. He grabs Daichi’s face, pulls him close, bringing their lips together. Ares is the vile aspect of war, the unspeakable ruin, pillage, and steal of war… and so that’s what Oikawa does—he ruins, pillages, and steals that kiss. Kisses Daichi so hot, so scorching hot, that Daichi is at a loss (those lips are knives, feeling like the inside of the rose). Oikawa pushes Daichi into the house, leaving the door open. He pushes and pushes, until he has Daichi against a wall, lips locked.  
   
 And Daichi kisses back—out of surprise, maybe, or shock, or because he hasn’t yet realised what’s happening—and into the kiss he muffles a deep _deep_ moan.  
   
 Oikawa smirks into the kiss; he grabs Daichi’s hands and puts them on his hips.  
   
 Daichi flips them with a slam so Oikawa is against the wall. If it hurt, Oikawa doesn’t protest. Both of them have their eyes closed, breathing through their noses. Daichi gropes Oikawa’s ass. It breaks the kiss as Oikawa pulls away to gasp, letting out such a delicate noise that Daichi can’t help but stare.  
   
 And realisation sets in.  
   
 The same venomous realisation that seethed in Oikawa’s brain when he realised why he hates Suga.  
   
 Daichi realises what he’s done. He opens his eyes, head reeling back. Shame, guilt, and regret—they swim in his eyes, build up on his face as it sterns. “Oi…” He tries to sound the rest of the name, but his voice fails him.  
   
 And _Good_ Oikawa thinks. He grabs Daichi’s face and pulls him into another kiss.  
   
 Daichi forces his hand between them and shoves Oikawa against the wall.  
   
 Silence.  
   
 There is nothing but the low hum of the refrigerator and a couple birds outside, sound coming from the open doorway.  
   
 Daichi stares, shocked, angry, disgusted. He takes a few steps back.  
   
 But the damage is done. Oikawa knows he’s already won, but that sick dark part of him whispers that he could do more—do so much more. Oikawa peels himself off the wall, hips moving from side to side as he closes the distance between them. “Just don’t think, okay?”  
   
 “Wh-What?” Daichi frowns, scowls even.  
   
 Oikawa and I had both heard that when Daichi got mad he was scary… but maybe Oikawa saw that as a challenge. Oikawa sees Daichi’s scowl and he feels a swell of pride in his chest. An achievement. It looks good on Daichi, Oikawa thinks, and he can’t help but wonder what his angry cum face would be like. He wants to find out. He needs to find out. To really break Suga, he _hungers_ to find out. “I said,” he speaks with his gentle voice, “Just don’t think, okay?”  
   
 “Get out.” Daichi shakes his head. He wants to scream but his voice is weak. “Get the fuck out,” he tries to yell, but when he hears his own voice it’s too tender, too… defeated.  
   
 “Now now,” Oikawa teases, “Don’t be like that, okay?”  
   
 “I said get out. Koushi and I—”  
   
 “—You know what I heard?” Oikawa slips his arms around Daichi’s neck and cocks his head to the side. Surprisingly, Daichi doesn’t push him away… although that gorgeous scowl is still firmly planted. “I heard sex with Kou-chan is pretty…” Oikawa winces. “Boring.”  
   
 “W-Well… you heard wrong.”  
   
 “Hmmm.” Oikawa brings their lips close, but he doesn’t let them meet. “I bet you’ve got some dirty fantasies there is no way he’d ever say yes to…”  
   
 “Oikawa… I’m warning you…”  
   
 “Come on,” Oikawa says as he presses his crotch against Daichi’s and— _bingo_ —Daichi’s already hard. Honestly, Oikawa thinks, it’s not his fault if Suga’s going to let such a perfect specimen of a man live so, so unsatisfied. “Come on… come on… It’ll be a secret, our little secret…”  
   
 “Oikawa,” says Daichi, trying to sound firm, but it comes out like a whine.  
   
 “Secrets are sexy, you know?” Oikawa grinds himself against Daichi, watching that scowl loosen up. “I’ll bet all my money that you’ve never had the chance to do it rough, have you? It’s so much better. Do you want to fuck me like that? Rough. _Rough._ Maybe we won’t even use lube…”  
   
 Daichi’s mouth has betrayed him too many times, so he breathes through his nose.  
   
 “Come on…” He pushes Daichi back. “Come on…” He sits Daichi on one of the kitchen chairs then straddles his hips. He leans in, kissing his neck softly, too softly. “Don’t you want to touch me?”  
   
 Daichi doesn’t know when his hands moved to Oikawa’s hips, but he notices Oikawa’s wearing shorts. He can’t help it. He can’t help but move his hands down to Oikawa’s knees where he’s no longer touching fabric—where skin hits skin. Oikawa’s skin is soft, he realises, and then he notices Oikawa must shave his legs. His mind wanders before he can order it to stop and he wonders, wonders what else Oikawa shaves…  
   
 “Mmm, you look cute when you’re blushing…”  
   
 Oikawa’s breath is on Daichi’s lips—hot air on wet lips, making him shiver.  
   
 Oikawa takes Daichi’s hands and brings them up, feeling up his sides, his chest through his shirt. The chest that had always felt like broken glass to Oikawa feels like silk to Daichi. He brings Daichi’s hands up to the top button of his light blue button-up shirt, his favourite one, and smiles. “I’m all yours, okay? I’m all yours… but, our secret. Just between us.”  
   
 “Just between us,” Daichi repeats even though he doesn’t want to. “Oikawa…”  
   
 Oikawa cups Daichi’s jaw and brings their mouths together, licking at the seam of their lips before slipping it against Daichi’s tongue. Oikawa tastes surprise and he realises Daichi probably doesn’t use a lot of tongue when he kisses Suga—another little fun thing to exploit. He begins to move his hips, grinding his ass against Daichi’s crotch, grinding his ass against the outline of a hard length beneath him. His arms move around Daichi’s neck and he continues rocking their mouths and bodies together.  
   
 Daichi feels heat. That’s all he understands. Somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind he knows what’s happening, but he’s so absorbed in the present—so absorbed in sensation, in Oikawa—that something as abstract and complicated as _thought_ ceases to function. His hands begin to undo each button, one at a time. His hands shake at first, but soon they grow more and more impatient with every second he has to wait. When Oikawa’s shirt is open, he throws it to the floor.  
   
 He feels Oikawa’s chest.  
   
 Skin on skin.  
   
 It’s hot and cold, tough and soft, every contradiction yet everything’s right.  
   
 Oikawa keeps grinding his hips until he knows Daichi can’t take it anymore. He playfully tugs at the waistband of his shorts and breaks the kiss with a giggle. He gets off Daichi’s lap just enough time to slip off his shorts and boxers, thinking they look quite nice on Daichi’s floor, before he gets on that lap again, naked. He’s naked now, sitting in a taken man’s lap. His body is practically hairless, save for the trimmed brown hair above his cock, which is hard and twitching.  
   
 Daichi admires the sight for a full second, but after that it’s too much. He grabs Oikawa’s cock and begins stroking it, vigorously. With a tight grip that makes Oikawa gasp, he rolls the foreskin over the head and back down, over and over, no rhythm, just movement.  
   
 “Ah,” Oikawa gasps, whines, actually overwhelmed. He knew Daichi was in need, but now it feels like he’s playing with fire. Daichi’s a hungry animal beneath him. It isn’t Oikawa’s fault, of course. If Suga had been a better boyfriend… Oikawa grins and starts kissing Daichi’s neck, sucking, nipping, biting—he’s going to leave his mark.  
   
 He’s going to leave as many marks as possible.  
   
 It only feeds Daichi’s heat. He closes his eyes. “Next to the bed,” he manages to say in his haze. “That’s where the lube is.”  
   
 The bed.  
   
 Oikawa thinks. The bed would be where Daichi and Suga are always together; and, as much as he would love to contaminate—defile—that place with a filthy memory, he thinks enough to realise Daichi would stop the second he gets the chance to breathe. It’s going to hurt… it’s going to hurt a lot, but… “Forget the lube.” Oikawa kisses him roughly. “Fuck me. Now, like this. Raw.”  
   
 “It’s…” Daichi is in disbelief, having never even considered the idea. Whenever he’d done it with Suga, it had always been as gentle as possible. _Raw_ , Oikawa’s voice reverberates in his head. _I’ll bet all my money that you’ve never had the chance to do it rough, have you? It’s so much better. Do you want to fuck me like that? Rough._ Daichi’s head begins to burn. _It’ll be a secret, our little secret…_  
   
 “Hurt me,” Oikawa demands, commands, as forcefully as he can. “Hurt me, damnit! Break me.”  
   
 Daichi’s cock twitches and he swallows hard. “Y-You sure?”  
   
 Oikawa steals another deep kiss. “I’m not a little bitch,” he hisses. “Treat me like your dirty fantasy, damnit—treat me like your little fuck toy. Come on, come on…” Daichi’s face invents a new shade of red and Oikawa realises it’s probably the first time he’s heard some _real_ dirty talk. Oikawa reaches down, playing with the zipper of Daichi’s jeans. He zips it down and a cock springs up. “Wow, you don’t even wear underwear…”  
   
 Daichi blushes, looking away.  
   
 “So you are kinky, huh?” Oikawa kisses his neck as he grabs Daichi’s cock.  
   
 Daichi closes his eyes, sucking air in quickly.  
   
 Oikawa pulls the foreskin down and thumbs the head, spreading the beads of precum around. Daichi makes sweet noises in his ear and Oikawa almost freezes. He’s scared. But he raises his hips. He angles the cock over his ass. He’s scared, but he keeps going. When he pushes himself down—  
   
 Daichi brings a hand to his mouth, biting into the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger.  
   
 It _burns_ , it _hurts_ , and Oikawa almost regrets it but it _hurts so good_ that he makes a whining noise and lowers himself further, taking another inch. The vile aspect of war—Ares—is that homes are left burned and ruined, but even in one-sided wars or pre-emptive attacks… nobody walks away unscathed. War may not destroy them equally, but it will give ruin to both the attackers and the defenders. Oikawa knows this as he lowers himself further, knowing that if he wants to break Suga, if he wants to break Daichi, he has to break himself.  
   
 Maybe that’s what he wants.  
   
 Maybe he already considers himself broken.  
   
 What does he have to lose?  
   
 “Fuck!” Oikawa squishes his eyes shut and his own cock twitches, twitching from the pleasure and twitching from the pain. The two sensations fuse and merge and become indistinguishable. Oikawa pushes his forehead against Daichi’s neck. Daichi throws his head back, letting out a deep moan. Oikawa smirks, feeling tears well in the corner of his eyes. He knows he’s the only one who’s made Suga’s man make noises like these. He knows he may be the only man to ever make Daichi moan like this.  
   
 Daichi’s bigger than he thought, Oikawa realises, but eventually he sinks to the bottom.  
   
 Daichi’s arms move tight around Oikawa’s body, pressing their chests together, hugging his cock between.  
   
 Oikawa hugs Daichi’s neck as he feels him begin to move. It hurts, it fucking hurts, and he knows he won’t be able to walk right afterwards—but he doesn’t regret it. He can’t deny how turned on he is, either. He moves one hand to his cock, stroking it with as much vigor as Daichi’s hand before. Daichi’s head is down and Oikawa realises Daichi is watching him touch himself as he’s getting fucked. It only makes Oikawa’s smile grow. The pain is intense, deep and crippling, burning—ruin spirals through him, but he keeps going.  
   
 If Daichi’s watching, then he’s going to put on a show.  
   
 Deep, manly grunts are coming from Daichi’s mouth and Oikawa’s higher voice matches each note.  
   
 Daichi moves his hips, thrusting into the heat over and over. He closes his eyes from the intensity, knees shaking, voice quivering already. His shoulders are shaking, his breath is rapid, throat tight. He feels tingles all over.  
   
 Oikawa bites his lower lip, hand moving faster on himself. “Fuck,” he whispers. He backs away from Daichi and throws his head back. He feels Daichi’s hungry eyes on him and the hands begin feeling him, touching his chest, his shoulders, his knees, his ass—feeling him, claiming him, needing him. The thrusts deep into his body match the rhythm of the hands over him, and so Oikawa moves his own hands in that rhythm, as if their bodies are singing a song, a duet, a cry for help, a song of war.  
   
 The movements continue, strangled voices keep panting, rhythm, rhythm, rhythm.  
   
 Daichi can’t take it anymore, he’s close, very close. He kisses Oikawa’s neck, but soon they become bites.  
   
 Oikawa’s body is all pleasure and pain, no longer able to tell the difference. His hand pumps his cock, over and over, and he leans back further. Closing his eyes, breathing become rapid, and he whispers Daichi’s name as he cums—spraying hot white into the air. It lands on his chest, all over himself.  
   
 Daichi is so mesmerised by the sight he wraps his arms around Oikawa’s hips and thrusts again and again, hard and harder, fast and faster, closing his eyes, wincing, slamming Oikawa’s hips down on his—there’s the sound of skin slapping skin, and Daichi calls out as he also cums, releases.  
   
 And it’s done.  
   
 It doesn’t last long for either of them, but it’s done.  
   
 Oikawa’s pretty sure he should get the fuck out of Daichi and Suga’s dorm as fast as he can, but his legs barely feel solid. His breathing is erratic, body perfectly ruined. He slumps down, resting his forehead on Daichi’s shoulder. Sweat gleams both of their bodies, and Oikawa is covered in cum. There’s a twist in his stomach as he realises he didn’t use a condom, but he ignores it for now. Too late for that thought. He knows he’s clean and he can’t imagine anyone who’s only been with Suga to be anything else. He’ll get tested, of course, but he tries not to worry too much about it.  
   
 “Shit,” Daichi says in a broken voice, breaking the silence. When he opens his eyes, he leans back, as far away from Oikawa as he can. “What… What did we… what did we just…?”  
   
 “Don’t worry,” Oikawa’s too tired to use his teasing voice. “I said it’s our little secret… didn’t I?”  
   
 “Little…” comes a new voice, “Secret…”  
   
 When Daichi glances to the side, his world crumbles.  
   
 Oikawa doesn’t look, but he knows that voice. His chest tightens, teeth grind together, and all of a sudden his mouth feels very… very… dry.  
   
 At the doorway they left open, a sandy, sunlight breeze passes through. Sugawara stands, still. Curtains move, but Sugawara is still. He stands with a notebook clutched tight to his chest. His eyes are wide, focused but still, trembling and world-shattered, but he’s still. Perfectly, utterly, still.  
   
 Oikawa realises that if he hadn’t known any better, he would have said he’s looking at a very distant photograph.  
   
 Daichi opens his mouth to speak, but…  
   
 Oikawa wants to say something as well, but nothing comes. He considers saying a joke, maybe, get a laugh? No. Of course not. That won’t work. Nothing will work. He looks into Suga’s brown eyes and he thinks this must be what remains when worlds end and there’s nothing left.  
   
 Sugawara stares, minutes upon minutes slip by. “Leave,” he finally whispers.  
   
 Oikawa gets up—grabbing his clothes and doesn’t take his time getting dressed. He’s only halfway to wearing his shirt when he runs out of the room. He’s pretty sure he left a sock or something, but he runs. He runs away. He pats his pockets, making sure he’s got his phone, his wallet, his keys. When he’s fine with that, he relaxes.  
   
 And then, of course… Oikawa smiles.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 Daichi cleans up the kitchen while Suga heads straight to their bedroom, closing the door behind him. Daichi doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He fucked up. He fucked up. He cheated on Suga… He fucked up. The thought sinks, slowly, like an old boat going down. His world crumbles over and over as his mind replays the sight of Suga, so broken, just staring. Daichi feels destroyed, but he doesn’t want to think of himself as a victim. He knows he’s not the one who… Daichi feels dirty, filthy; and, while he wants to kiss Suga and make it better, he feels like Suga would be better off kissing dirt off shoes than kissing filth like him.  
   
 When Daichi enters the bedroom, he sees Suga.  
   
 Suga sits at the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, looking down.  
   
 Daichi opens his mouth, but his voice fails him. No words come. Nothing comes.  
   
 “It’s okay,” Suga says in such a gentle voice it’s barely audible enough to be a whisper. The two of them stay in silence before Suga looks up. His brown eyes are watering and he swallows hard. “I…” he speaks again, so gently, so undeserving of what just happened, “I know I’m not…” He shakes his head. “I mean… Compared to him… anyway…”  
   
 Daichi blinks, taking a step forward. He sits at the other end of the bed. “How much… did you see?”  
   
 “Um…” Suga purses his lips, looking away. “Just… just before… you know, um. Penetration?”  
   
 Daichi’s stomach twists, bile licks at his throat, and he can’t help but wonder if his organs are trying to hurt themselves. They should hurt themselves, Daichi thinks, because he deserves it.  
   
 “But it’s okay…” Suga smiles, a broken, shattered smile. The kind of smiles people smile at funerals when asked to think of happy memories of the rotting corpse in front of them. “I knew…”  
   
 “You knew?” Daichi blinks, confusion pouring into his face. “This—I mean… It’s not—it’s not like we—we haven’t… It’s the first time this has…”  
   
 “But I knew,” Suga assured. “I knew this would happen… I’m not. I can’t…” Suga closes his eyes, taking a deep deep breath before he opens his eyes again. “I knew it. I’m not… I’m not good enough. I know I’m not, and I’m surprised… and happy… that you stayed with me this long, I mean—I feel… so… inadequate all the time, and… and…” Suga laughs, hollow. “I knew…”  
   
 “Koushi…” Daichi moves closer; he moves slowly, making sure Suga doesn’t mind him coming. “You’re… you’re literally perfect. You’re a perfect boyfriend, I… It’s not like I wanted to do that, I just… Koushi, I love every moment with you. I mean that.”  
   
 That only makes Suga lower his head, shoulders shaking as if to hide tears.  
   
 Daichi reaches for him, but Suga flinches. Daichi pulls away.  
   
 “I don’t…”  
   
 “You… don’t? Don’t what?”  
   
 “Love… every moment…” Suga puts his face in his hands and takes another shaking breath. “With you.”  
   
 Daichi stares. “What… do you mean? What don’t you like?”  
   
 “The…” Suga has to take another breath. “Sex, Daichi. I… I can’t… I… I don’t. I don’t enjoy it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it anymore, Daichi! I just fucking can’t I know that—”  
   
 “Hey, hey,” Daichi soothes. “That’s fine…” He moves closer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
   
 “Because, because I’m a man!” Suga declares, suddenly, throwing his hands aside. “I’m supposed to… I’m supposed to _like_ sex, _want_ sex, _love_ sex! I can’t! I just can’t… It feels good, I guess… there are times, I… I don’t mind, I guess… I don’t mind, but… I don’t… I don’t feel it, you know? I don’t get that urge for it. I don’t know what you mean when you’re in the mood for it… I don’t… I’m so fucked up! Daichi. I know… I know the sex is bad between us—I knew this would happen. I… I knew… I knew this would happen.”  
   
 Daichi freezes; he’s stuck, staring. A moment comes and goes before he smiles. “So what?”  
   
 Suga blinks. “What?”  
   
 “So what? You don’t like sex. Okay.” Daichi shrugs slowly. “Do you honestly think that’s the only reason I’m with you? If you we never do it again, that’s fine. It’s not the most important thing in the world. It’s not the most important part of our relationship.”  
   
 It’s Suga’s turn to freeze; he’s stuck, staring. A moment comes and goes.  
   
 “There’s a reason I say I _love_ you, Koushi. I don’t say I sex you.” His lips tug into a small smile. “Who cares?”  
   
 “But, you…” Suga brings his knees up and buries his face into them. “You have needs.”  
   
 “Well… I’ve got hands, Koushi.”  
   
 Suga peeked at him. “Is that… enough?”  
   
 Daichi makes a mock frown. “I know I’m not as pretty as you are, but I hope I’m not ugly enough to be confused with a wildebeest.”  
   
 Suga puts his face back in his knees. “You’re not,” his words are a little muffled by the position, “Mad?”  
   
 “Fuck no, Koushi… um. No pun intended.”  
   
 Suga slams a fist into Daichi’s shoulder.  
   
 “Ow!” Daichi winces, but smiles. Whoever said angels couldn’t punch was a liar. “I’m sorry… Babe, please… come here?”  
   
 Suga wiggles his way over to Daichi until he’s leaning on him. He feels an arm around him and he closes his eyes. “I’m… mad. Still. At you.”  
   
 “I know, Koushi.” Daichi kisses the side of his head. “I’m not expecting a bit of hugs and kisses to be a quick fix. But we’ll work this out. We always have. I’ll earn your trust again.”  
   
 Suga nods into his knees and does his best to pretend he’s not crying.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 When Oikawa comes home, he has a noticeable limp and I notice right away. I ask if he’s alright and Oikawa grins wickedly. “I’m fine!” he says in an exhausted voice. “I just got fucked _so right_ , Iwa-chan. Holy-moly! Maybe his dick was a gift of the aliens!” He limps his way to the shower and cleans himself up.  
   
 I think nothing of it.  
   
 Later, when he’s dressed, I catch him vainly staring at himself in the mirror—again.  
   
 I think nothing of it.  
   
 A few days pass and I start noticing Suga’s not present in any of my classes. It’s pretty surprising, actually, since Suga’s such an ace student. He’s not the type to skip, and if he’s sick he would text and ask for notes. He always asks if anything important happens during lecture too. In class I take really detailed notes, since I figure I’ll at least show them to Suga. I make extra effort to make them somewhat legible so he can copy (he’ll probably need me to explain my handwriting later anyway—my Kanji is awful). I take my notes by hand since I usually end up goofing off if I bring my laptop.  
   
 After class I see Daichi at the cafeteria. He’s a couple spots ahead of me in the line and I overhear him getting three orders as takeout.  
   
 I take mine as takeout too and do a little jog to catch up to him after we pay. “Hey.”  
   
 We’re walking to the campus residence.  
   
 Daichi looks over his shoulder. “Hi,” he returns without much of a smile.  
   
 “Is Koushi alright?” I have to ask. “Is he feeling unwell or something? He wasn’t in either of the classes we have together today.” I pat the shoulder strap of my backpack. “I took good notes in case he wants them.”  
   
 “He’ll appreciate it.” Daichi’s words feel dry. I think he’s mad, but it doesn’t look like he’s mad at me. We go up the stairs and eventually get to their door. He’s about to say something as he opens the door, but there’s a loud—  
   
 “Suga-san!” a voice that could only be Hinata Shouyou screaming at the top of his lungs, “You’re so dumb!”  
   
 Sugawara’s sitting in the kitchen, smiling a little at the response (albeit a little crookedly), and nods. “Yeah… I guess.” His eyes are red, but he doesn’t look bad.  
   
 “Everything okay?” Daichi asks.  
   
 I give a little wave when they turn to us.  
   
 Suga nods and points to the notebook on the table (by the writing and doodles I figure it’s probably Hinata’s). “Asexual,” he says. “It’s a thing, I guess. I’m not… you know, messed up.”  
   
 Daichi smiles and lets out a sigh. He puts the takeout down and walks over to his boyfriend, slowly kissing his cheek. “Of course not.”  
   
 “Bwaah!” Hinata explodes. “You’re a psych student, Suga-san! You should have taken this course! It’s a first-year one, and it’s such a GPA boost, and it’s one of the most popular ones! Everyone’s taken it!”  
   
 I walk in and put my takeout down as well. “Which course?”  
   
 “Bwah, it’s about sex and sexuality,” Hinata explains with a puff of his chest. “You pretty much find out everyone’s a little bit freaky. Or not freaky. And all of it’s A-Okay. Except the thing with the lightbulb and the belt but y’know that was the eighties.”  
   
 Suga looks at the notebook. “I… wanted to take that course, but… I got really uncomfortable,” he admits, “When I thought about taking that class…”  
   
 Hinata blinks twice and it clicks. “Oh!” He hops up. “Well, you’re totally A-Okay, okay? So don’t be sad anymore, got it?”  
   
 Suga nods. I’m pretty sure he’s more nodding because Hinata wants to, but there’s a touch of a smile on his lips. Suga turns to me and his smile grows. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to class.”  
   
 “No worries.” I pull my backpack off and unzip it. I take out my notebook and offer it. “If you want to copy or whatever.”  
   
 Suga takes the notebook slowly and smiles. “Could I… Can I give it to you next class?”  
   
 “Yeah, of course.” I smile. “No worries.” I’m not really sure what’s going on, but piecing the conversation together I have some kind of idea. “If you want to get your mind off things, Oikawa and I are going to karaoke or something tomorr—” I don’t finish my sentence.  
   
 Daichi and Hinata are glaring while Suga looks like a kicked puppy.  
   
 I look between the three of them.  
   
 Suga hiccups once, which I think is an odd reply, and then I realise it might have been a sob.  
   
 “Are one of these mine?” Hinata asks loudly, _very loudly_ , and grabs one of the takeout orders. “Oh wow, Iwa, let’s go outside! Wow, yeah! Outside! Now!”  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 When we step out, I can’t help but stare at him. “What?”  
   
 “Sorry about that, Iwa-san.” Hinata bows.  
   
 “Iwa-san…?”  
   
 “Huh?” Hinata tilts his head. “That’s your name right? Iwa. Oikawa-san calls you Iwa-chan.”  
   
 I sigh. “Iwaizumi, actually.”  
   
 “Oh!” He straightens his spine and then bows, lower than before. “Sorry Iwaizumi-san!”  
   
 “It’s fine. Iwaizumi’s fine.” I scratch the back of my head with my free hand. “Anyway… what was all that about?”  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
  _“Iwa-chan!"  
   
 “Huh?"  
   
 A boy, no older than six, has his arms behind his back and a big smile on his lips. He and I always met at the park every few days, anyway, but this was the first time he said that. “Iwa-chan. Iwaizumi-chan is too long, so I have to say Iwa-chan."  
   
 I stare at him, my cheeks getting burning. “Don’t call me that, Oikawa-san!"  
   
 But Oikawa’s still smiling; and, I realise, his own cheeks are red too. “Iwa-chan," he repeats, happily. “I need a nickname for you, Iwa-chan. So you’re going to be my Iwa-chan from now on!"  
   
 “No," I mutter, with no force in my voice. The warm fluttery feeling that this boy gave me a nickname as cute as that was nothing compared to the butterflies when I saw just how happy he was when he said it.  
   
 “Iwa-chan.“_  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _King, Thunder / Outcast, Death_**  
   
 When I come home, I see red. I slam the door behind me. Oikawa’s in front of a mirror, again, and then he turns to me with a smile. “Hey, Iwa-chan! You know your Greek homos? Who would I be? Wasn’t there one that was like super pretty or someth—”  
   
 He doesn’t finish his sentence.  
   
 I grab his throat and slam him into the wall, shaking the whole dorm from force.  
   
 Oikawa hits his head, hard, and yells. He shoves me away and backs off. “What the _fuck_ , Hajime?”  
   
 “Shut. Up.” I’m glaring daggers at him, my whole body is shaking, and I actually fear I might kill him.  
   
 He grabs his shirt and quickly puts it on. “What the fuck was that?”  
   
 “Don’t _what the fuck_ me—what the fuck to you!” I take a step back. “What the fuck happened between you and Daichi?”  
   
 “Oh.” Oikawa slips away. He walks out of the room, walking into our kitchen. “That.”  
   
 “Yeah.” I chase him. “ _That._ ”  
   
 “Well…” He smiles and holds up a finger. “It wasn’t my fault! He was the one who seduced m—”  
   
 I shove him hard against the fridge and he cries out. “Don’t. Don’t even fucking think about trying that with me, do you hear me?” My anger begins to melt away and I sigh. “What…” I look into his eyes, seeing his fear. “What’s wrong with you?”  
   
 “Nothing, Iwa-chan!”  
   
 “No… seriously…” I close my eyes and shake my head. “Why do you always have to do shit like that? Honestly, I… I mean, seriously? I—I just… Why? Just because you’re jealous? Just because Koushi dated me, once, and not you?”  
   
 Oikawa’s mouth shuts tight. His lips purse and he wants to back away from me, I can tell, but the fridge keeps him in place.  
   
 “I just…” I shake my head, again, and my vision becomes blurry. Tears, I realise. “I really like you, okay?” I stare at him. “There’s no one else in the fucking world I want to be with more than you, but you’re just this… just this stupid, shit. You can’t stand the thought of anyone being happy if you’re not happy. And because of that you can’t be happy for anyone. You can’t be happy for someone having something you don’t—someone who probably worked _harder_ than you did. You’re… you’re so fucking pathetic. You can’t get what you want, so you break the world around you until it’s fair by your standards!”  
   
 Oikawa’s always been taller than me, but right now he looks small, like a child, like a toddler.  
   
 “And you probably wonder, ‘Why won’t Hajime date me?’, and you probably wonder, ‘If he’s into guys, why isn’t he into me?’. Is that it? Is that what you think?”  
   
 Oikawa says nothing.  
   
 “It’s because… you’re like, this.” I take a deep breath. “I’m not… I’m not saying I’m perfect.” I look away, take a step back. “I’m not saying anyone’s perfect, and there’s no way in hell that I would ever, ever expect you to be perfect either, but… but usually… I mean, when someone notices ‘Hey, I’ve got a problem: I’m kind of an asshole’ that’s the kind of cue to fix that part of themselves. To at least try!” I look at him again, glaring. “But you. I bet you walked away feeling _proud_ of what you did… didn’t you?”  
   
 Oikawa looks away, avoiding eye contact as if it might kill him. And maybe it might.  
   
 “You did.”  
   
 Oikawa nods.  
   
 “You’re sick.” I take another step back. “You wonder which god you are? How about fucking Hades. Rotting in the underworld. Outcast. Unloved. How about that, huh?” Would that make me Zeus, then? Casting him out? Someone who was like a brother to me… I laugh, finding it ironic that these stupid dead Greeks mean anything to me now. “You’re sick. You’ve done so much shit I’ve tolerated—but not this. Not this. Not to Suga, not to Daichi—not to our _friends._ ” But then I pause. “Or maybe they’re just _my_ friends. You’ve never let me drift away from you. You’re barely even able to tolerate the thought of me having my own friends.”  
   
 Maybe Oikawa’s dead, I wonder. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t do anything.  
   
 I back off, back away.  
   
 “Wait,” comes a voice so weak I never thought it would come from Oikawa’s lips. He steps forward. When I turn to him to ask what, he flinches—moving back against the fridge. Oikawa tries to speak but now his voice fails him. All he manages to get out is a soft, “What…”  
   
 I stare.  
   
 There are so many sides to Oikawa. I know them all. This is the one I hate seeing the most. The one that breaks me. The side of Oikawa that’s so utterly… destroyed, when he just… _breaks_. I’ve seen it many times, too many times—I don’t want to see anymore. I don’t want to see it anymore, I don’t want to see it anymore, I don’t want to see it anymore… But, I have to ask: “What do you want?”  
   
 “What happens…” Oikawa’s looking at the floor. “Between us?”  
   
 “Nothing.” I shrug. “You have your room, I have mine. Fuck off.”  
   
 Oikawa gives a nod.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Music, Poetry, Art_**  
   
 Who wants to talk about more dead Greeks? Me, apparently. Apollo is seen as many things. He’s seen as the God of Music, Poetry, Art, Archery, the Sun (but he isn’t the sun himself). Apparently he’s popular in books and theatre, wonder why.  
   
 I spend a lot of time elsewhere, actually. There are times I feel like I’m intruding, even if Suga and Daichi assure me I’m not (Suga’s even admitted that it gets weird when it’s just him and Daichi—especially since the hickeys haven’t faded yet), and I’ve even started spending time with Hinata (or “Shouyou” as I started calling him) at his dorm. His roommate is actually Kunimi of all people. I wasn’t even aware he was attending here.  
   
 But I avoid my own place.  
   
 Mostly because of Oikawa and his bravado.  
   
 After Oikawa’s initial silence, he flipped one-eighty.  
   
 Now Oikawa wakes up every morning in song, takes extra-long showers, dances throughout his days, studies out loud, parties all night, speaks in verse, comes home drunk as fuck, and sleeps for a full eight hours, day after day.  
   
 He’s Apollo.  
   
 He’s having the time of his life.  
   
 But I know better.  
   
 This is Oikawa’s last defence mechanism: His bravado. It’s his “Everything’s fine! Just fine!” method of dealing with his problems. If I hadn’t experienced it so many times in the past, I’d probably get pissed off. I would yell at Oikawa and remind him he has no right to be happy. But it’s because I know that I say nothing. I say nothing and let Oikawa keep up his show, his façade, his grand theatric finale.  
   
 I know the curtain will fall and the show will crumble eventually.  
   
 It always does.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Agriculture, Harvest, Seasons_**  
   
 “Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sings one day, initiating our first conversation in almost a full month. “Tobio-chan is coming today.”  
   
 “Kageyama?” I blink. “Today?”  
   
 “Mhm. I have no idea why, but he said he’s coming. And he said since he’s coming he should visit us or something.”  
   
 “That’s fine.” I give a shrug. “I’ll be home all day.”  
   
 “Good.”  
   
 And so, Kageyama visits.  
   
 “Iwaizumi-san.” Kageyama lowers his head politely. He stands at the doorway of our dorm. “It’s been a long time.”  
   
 I’m not surprised that he grew, just a little, but Kageyama’s taller than me now. I mean, he was in high school, even when he was just a first year, but only by a smidge. Now Kageyama’s grown to six feet, which is just a smidge shorter than Oikawa (although I can’t help but wonder if Kageyama’s hair wasn’t so flat…)  
   
 “Tobio-chan!” Oikawa clasps his hands together. “You shouldn’t have eaten so many veggies.”  
   
 Kageyama blinks. “What?”  
   
 “You look good,” I say with a smile. “So what brings you to our campus?”  
   
 “Yeah,” says Oikawa as he puts his hands on his hips. “You’ve got your own uni', stay there.”  
   
 “There’s a joint program,” Kageyama explains. “If I get accepted, I’ll be spending a couple terms at each university. Would be best to check the place out since I’m applying.”  
   
 I nod. “Want us to give you a tour?”  
   
 “I would… ap-appreciate it.”  
   
 And so we give him a tour.  
   
 It goes well, mostly anyway. Oikawa’s acting civil, pretending there’s nothing wrong between us, and I kind of appreciate that. As mature as Oikawa is, I did fear he might try to put Kageyama between us. But guess not. When the sun goes off and the clouds rumble above, there’s a bit of rain. Not too much, but it brings the temperature down a notch. Oikawa offers to get hot drinks for us all, and to our surprise Kageyama asks for coffee. A latte with extra milk, which is a little bit less of a surprise, but still… Tobio Kageyama… coffee… Huh.  
   
 When Oikawa leaves, Kageyama turns to me (I still can’t get over having to look up a little at him). “Iwaizumi-san.”  
   
 For some reason, I feel my throat tighten. “Yeah?”  
   
 “I thought you and Oikawa…” He looks directly at me with that default deep intensity. “I thought you weren’t getting along well now.”  
   
 Blunt, to the point. He’s refined from his middle school and high school days, but still blunt and to the point. A little refreshing, though, compared to Oikawa’s theatrics. “Well.” I sigh. “We’re not on the best terms.”  
   
 “I heard about what happened with Suga-san.”  
   
 I sigh again. “Rumours travel fast, I guess.”  
   
 “Suga told me himself.” Kageyama’s expression is hard to read, but that’s nothing new. “I’m kind of like him—demi.”  
   
 ‘Demi’, I repeat in my head. I know I’ve heard the term before (Shouyou practically tested me on all the terms since he felt it was his job to teach everyone now—not a lot of it stuck, to be honest, but I think we all appreciated the effort). “Oh.” I smile. “I see. Must have been nice to have someone like Suga to talk to about it.”  
   
 “I’ve always known.” Kageyama shakes his head. “Didn’t help me. But it was good for Suga, I think, to give him someone to talk to. Considering how much he’s done for me, it was nice to do that for him.” And then Kageyama frowns. It’s a strange frown. It’s not his usual anger bitchface—there’s more to this frown, complexity, emotions, many of them. I’m almost… afraid. He clears his throat. “I…” He looks at his shoes and then back at me. “Suga told me not to do anything ‘brash’, but… I think, I think it’s best he gets… What did Shouyou say? ‘Taste of his own medicine’, I think.”  
   
 I blink. “What?”  
   
 “I admit, I’ve always admired you Iwaizumi-san. I apologise for this.”  
   
 “Me?” I try to figure it out, but then it’s too late.  
   
 Kageyama leans in.  
   
 The kiss is quick, soon interrupted by a loud, “Fuck!”  
   
 We break away.  
   
 Oikawa had dropped one of the hot drinks all over his arm. He’s shaking it, muttering small ‘Ow’ noises, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s just staring at us.  
   
 Kageyama pulls me into another kiss. I feel my cheeks warm up. _So, this is what it feels like being used?_ I remember when Oikawa kissed me after his break up with Kozume. It feels the same, I guess. I never told anyone I liked Oikawa, and I’m pretty sure Oikawa’s never told anyone that he liked me, but I guess Kageyama must have known. For all the years we’ve known each other… he must have seen the way we held hands when we thought no one else was looking.  
   
 I know this kiss is wrong.  
   
 It doesn’t feel like the knife or the rose that is Oikawa.  
   
 Maybe it’s the situation.  
   
 Maybe it’s because I know this will hurt him.  
   
 Maybe my heart’s just not into it.  
   
 The kiss is immature, and it’s wrong. But, I also know, this is the worst way to fix everything—which means it’s the best way to cut Oikawa out of my life. It’s the best way to burn every last fucking bridge. It’s the best way to show Oikawa what it’s like to be fucked up.  
   
 I can’t really focus on the kiss, my mind goes elsewhere…  
   
 I think of Demeter—Goddess of Agriculture. She’s best known for being the mother of Persephone (Minor Goddess of Flowers; Hades’ wife). When Persephone wandered into the underworld, Demeter had gone crazy. Her favourite daughter in the land of the dead. She made it so no grain would grow, so nothing could eat, so everything would starve. Zeus reasoned with Hades, but since Persephone had eaten six of the twelve pomegranates, Persephone was property of the Underworld.  
   
 And so it was said that Persephone would spend six months with Hades, and six months with Demeter.  
   
 Thus, seasons were born.  
   
 For half the year grain and flowers would grow, and for half it would be winter and autumn.  
   
 The cycle of the years had started that way, but it also shows that all things will change.  
   
 For Oikawa, it meant it was time for the curtain to fall.  
   
 His theatrics were over.  
   
 It was his winter.  
   
 Flowers die.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 The kiss ends and Kageyama leaves, not saying a word. He walks past Oikawa, disappears.  
   
 Oikawa stands in the rain for a while, staring at me.  
   
 “Do you get it yet?” I yell, not able to help myself, “Doesn’t it hurt?”  
   
 Oikawa goes quiet, but he gives a little nod.  
   
 “If it fucking hurts then stop doing it to other people!”  
   
 I didn’t sign up for this shit.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 “You did, _what?_ ” Hinata yells, jaw hitting the floor.  
   
 Kageyama shrugs.  
   
 I’m not sure why I’m at Hinata’s dorm, but I am. Kunimi’s here too.  
   
 “That’s so…” Hinata frazzles his hair, “That’s so!”  
   
 Kunimi offers, “Dumb?”  
   
 I go with, “Immature?”  
   
 “No!” Hinata yells.  
   
 Kunimi tries, “Unnecessary?”  
   
 I give, “Reckless?”  
   
 “No!”  
   
 “Messed up?”  
   
 “Wrong?”  
   
 “No, just!” Hinata grins. “That’s awesome!” He practically throws himself at Kageyama, who barely catches him in time. “Just, like, I don’t know—I didn’t know you had it in you to do something like that, you know? It’s just like, like fwish fwish but then it’s just like _bwahhhhh_ but also _gwah_ , you know?”  
   
 Kageyama’s cheeks are red.  
   
 Kunimi nudges me with his elbow. “They’d make a cute couple.”  
   
 I can’t help but nod. Unlike Kageyama, Hinata hadn’t grown a millimetre since his first year in high school, and now that Kageyama was even taller… the height difference was adorable.  
   
 “I’m just!” Hinata yells, “I’m impressed!” He’s waving his arms all over the place. “I didn’t know you were that cool, _Baka_ geyama!”  
   
 “I am that cool,” Kageyama states. “Go out with me. On a date. I’m cool. Please.”  
   
 Kunimi and I go quiet. I half think Hinata’s going to reject him but—  
   
 “Okay!” Hinata hops up and down. “Totally!” He tugs Kageyama’s arm and then turns to us. “Look!” He points to Kageyama as if we didn’t know he was there. “He’s my boyfriend now.”  
   
 Kunimi just lets out an exhausted sigh.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Hunt, Forest, Maidenhood_**  
   
 Apollo—the music, poetry, theatric guy—Mr. Out-and-About Extraordinaire had a twin. Fellow Goddess and one of the twelve Olympians was Artemis. Artemis is the Goddess of the Hunt, of Forest and Hills, also a stark contrast to her brother, she was a maiden, keeping her purity. As Apollo was the sun, Artemis was the moon. And as seasons changed…  
   
 I’m not unhappy; rather, it’s the opposite. I am happy, but I’m also jealous. Between Hinata and Kageyama start of one of the weirdest but cutest relationships I had ever seen, and the fact that Daichi and Suga are starting to put issues behind them, I find myself walking home… alone… in the rain. Only one thought crosses my mind: _Why do other people have it so easy?_  
   
 I arrive home.  
   
 Oikawa has holed himself up in his room.  
   
 I sigh, trying to appreciate the silence but I know something is wrong… very… very wrong.  
   
 Weeks pass, again. Once it was midterms, now it’s finals. Oikawa doesn’t leave his room much anymore. He attends all his lectures, goes out to get food, sometimes house supplies, but he doesn’t go _out_ anymore. There’s no more partying, no more drinking, no more fun… The music has fallen, dead. The house is always quiet. There are no songs or poetry, no fun or life.  
   
 It worries me.  
   
 Deeply.  
   
 I started worrying slowly at first, but worry grows as worry does. I considered talking to Oikawa, but where would I even start? I spend thirty minutes in front of Oikawa’s door, unsure. I stay that way for almost an hour, until I give up. I go to my own room, pull out textbooks…  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Forge, Craft, Solitude_**  
   
 Oikawa isn’t sure about a lot of things anymore; in fact, he starts realising he may have never been sure about anything—he just pretended to know shit. It’s a likely hypothesis to him. He’s gotten good at taking notes is what he’s noticed. While, before, he used to hate sitting in front of a textbook and summarising everything (because the world is filled with people and places and things to do and see, Iwa-chan!), now he doesn’t mind. In fact, he’s summarised his entire four-hundred page textbook into a forty-page document.  
   
 When Suga (albeit tentatively) asks him if he had notes for Chapter 12, Oikawa sent the entire thing to him (highlighting Chapter 12-related material). Suga had been stunned, asking if it was some kind of peace offering. Oikawa gave a little shrugged. Suga seemed confused, but he smiled.  
   
 Oikawa wonders if that was a start.  
   
 Oikawa wonders if he even cares.  
   
 Things stopped bothering him after a while. Before, he used to hate that feeling of being hungry, or wet, or cold. He still doesn’t like it, of course, but it doesn’t really matter. If he is hungry, he eats. If he is wet, it won’t take long for it to dry. When he’s cold, his body will warm up anyway. It was nice, in a way. His life had been so full of highs and lows that now he welcomes how everything has fallen into a fantastic flat line.  
   
 Oikawa knows he’s living at distance with himself, but he’s okay with that.  
   
 It reminds me of Hephaestus—yeah, Greek—this guy was the master of the forge. He was excellent with crafts (mainly metalwork), but he didn’t have much of a happy life. When he was born (or so the story goes, anyway) his mother, Hera, took one look at him and thought he was so ugly she just kind of threw him off Mount Olympus. He was ugly and unloved, but he was good at his craft.  
   
 One of Oikawa’s finals is a month earlier than the others (last day of class instead of during finals period). He gets ninety-eight percent.  
   
 Good at his craft, but lonely. Good at what he’s doing, but sad. Having something to show for it, but hard to watch.  
 

* * *

  
  
_**Lesser, Unnamed**_  
  
 Why do things have to become complicated? Why do things become a mess? Why can’t shit be easy? Simple? I sit by myself, in my room, and I find myself missing the way Oikawa laughs, the way he smiles, the way he teases me—the way he infuriates me. The way he makes me feel happy. The way he makes me feel whole. The way he makes me feel invincible. The way I feel alive.  
  
 I miss the little things, brushes of skin, and I miss the big things, like when we’d fall asleep next to each other – or hold hands.  
  
 I miss everything.  
  
 I miss having my best friend.  
  
 I miss my best friend.  
  
 I miss the person that was important to me, and I hate the hole in my life that’s replaced him. Wide, cannot be crossed, a massive crater in my path, it’s too steep to climb down and too big to go around. And I realise, now, what it was that I threw away. I realise, now, what it was that I’ve done. I’ve always said, for all his problems, Oikawa is a good person, didn’t I?  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Wine / Hearth_**  
   
 I couldn’t take it anymore.  
   
 I wanted him to suffer but… not like this.  
   
 “We’re going out,” I tell him.  
   
 Oikawa looks up from his book. “What. Out? Where?”  
   
 “Just.” I stare. “Out. We’re going out.” I grab his coat and throw it at him. “Come on.”  
   
 He catches his coat and gets to his feet, tilting his head. “Why?”  
   
 “Please.” I frown. “Just, come on.”  
   
 “Iwaizumi—”  
   
 “Just!” I pour everything I have into the word: _“Please!”_  
   
 Oikawa gives a nod, but he’s staring at me. “What’s wrong?” he asks, but his voice sounds so hollow, so distant.  
   
 “You.”  
   
 “Me?”  
   
 “Shut up, just.” I grab him, pull him in. “Come here,” I whisper. I hug him, tight. Oikawa seems unsure, but he hugs me back. He nuzzles into my neck. He’s always been taller than me, which has always pissed me off, but whenever we hug… he usually slumps a little and takes on the ‘girl’ position, or something. I kiss the top of his head. “Just come with me, okay?”  
   
 “Iwaizum—”  
   
 “Don’t,” I whisper. “That’s not what you call me.”  
   
 Silence.  
   
 Finally, he says it softly: “Iwa-chan.”  
   
 “Yeah.” I close my eyes, feeling my lips tug into a smile. “Come on. Today’s Friday. There’s a party on the other side of res’.”  
   
 “But, finals…”  
   
 “When’s your next one?”  
   
 “Um, next Friday, but—”  
   
 “Come on, Shitkawa, we’re going.”  
   
 And so I tug him along. Funnily enough, he doesn’t complain. I slip my fingers in between his, holding his hand, and he jolts at the touch—but he doesn’t pull away. I just, I need to feel him, close, okay? I don’t like mushy shit, but I’ve had to watch him go from human to corpse and I just… I need this. Just this. Just this, just now. And so we make our way to the party everyone’s been talking about. We used to go to parties a lot, in our first year, not so much now.  
   
 It’s one of the bigger dorms, for five or so people. The whole house is open and people are partying everywhere. There’s music blaring loudly everywhere. Drinks are being handed out like no tomorrow. I give one to Oikawa and he looks at the cup like he’s never seen this before. But he takes it eventually. “What are we doing here?”  
   
 “Partying.”  
   
 “Okay.”  
   
 We take a couple sips of our drinks (piss-cheap beer) and go in the house. The music’s even worse. Eventually I hear a loud, “Hajime-san!” Both Oikawa and I look over. Hinata is with Kageyama, and Hinata’s stumbling his way over to us. “I brought Tobio, look! He’s so grumpy, I had to drag him!” The smell of too much alcohol is all over his every word. Meanwhile Kageyama looks like he’s trying to kill people with his scowl. Hinata takes one look at Kageyama and then replicates the frown.  
   
 “That’s not what I look like!”  
   
 Oikawa snorts.  
   
 I couldn’t help but laugh as well. “It kind of does look like you.”  
   
 Kageyama frowns at us. “I’m only here because Shouyou said we would have a good time!”  
   
 “It is a good time!” Hinata laughs. “You need to drink more and shut up. Ohhh, Tobio! Why don’t we go upstairs and _fuck_ on one of the beds!”  
   
 “You’re drunk dumbass!” Kageyama’s face is bright red. “Dumbass!”  
   
 “Oh come on!” Hinata giggles, almost falling over but Kageyama catches him. “I’m gonna ride you so hard!”  
   
 “But—”  
   
 “Or maybe you can ride _me so hard!_ We’re gonna flip flop!”  
   
 “Dumbass! Let’s go home!”  
   
 “Whaaaat? Not even a blowjob?”  
   
 “No!”  
   
 “Not even a little blowjob?”  
   
 “No!” Kageyama turns to me and Oikawa. “Apologies Iwaizumi-san… Oikawa-san. We should head back.”  
   
 “Nope.” Hinata pulls Kageyama into the crowd. “Dance with me!”  
   
 Oikawa and I stare as the two of them start dancing (it takes Kageyama some time), but then we tilt our heads in unison. “Wow,” Oikawa says. “Kageyama can actually dance.”  
   
 “Yeah.” I laugh and finish my drink.  
   
 Oikawa takes my hand. “Dance with me.”  
   
 I don’t question it; we toss our drinks and move into the crowd. The music was too loud for my taste, but I don’t care. I move my body to the beat, moving against Oikawa’s body. Nobody’s really paying attention to us, so I don’t really care that we’re two guys. Our bodies rocking, grinding against each other. At one point Oikawa turns around, I grab his hips, grinding my crotch against his ass. We keep dancing, but then he pulls away.  
   
 “What’s up?” I call over the music.  
   
 He leans close to my ear and talks loud, “Just need some air, Iwa-chan!”  
   
 “Okay!”  
   
 When I see Oikawa leave, I catch sight of Daichi too. I hope nothing happens, but before I can really think some chick starts dancing with me. She’s cute, I think. I don’t register much past her tits. We make out, maybe, I don’t really know. It’s meaningless and she just wants someone; I’m the lucky guy, I guess. A thought occurs to me that I should check on Oikawa, but that thought never goes anywhere. A part of me is just stressed and dealing with so much, Oikawa, finals, that I give in. I don’t really remember going up the stairs, but we find a bedroom and push each other on the bed.  
   
 My hand goes up her skirt and she grabs my crotch.  
   
 I have a condom in my left pocket, always do when I’m going to parties. I never actually needed it before, but I figure better to have than not have. Rolled it over my dick and well, we get to business. It’s good, impersonal, fucking at a distance. The kind of sex that can’t really make you feel guilty. You do your own thing, they do theirs, then you part ways when you were done.  
   
 After we finish, I go downstairs.  
   
 My body feels sluggish, every step feels heavy, but aftershocks of pleasure ripple under my skin.  
   
 I find Oikawa outside, on the steps, talking to Suga of all people.  
   
 Worry fills me, bringing me out of my post-cum daze, but it melts away.  
   
 Suga laughs loud and Oikawa chuckles.  
   
 I walk over and take a seat next to Oikawa. “Hey.”  
   
 “Hi.” Suga smiles at me.  
   
 “Hey,” Oikawa echoes with a smile.  
   
 I can’t help but smile as well. “What’s up?”  
   
 “Well.” Suga laughs again. “We were kind of talking about how much this party blows.”  
   
 “Yeah.” Oikawa nods. “Or maybe it’s just not as fun at the end of the fourth year.”  
   
 “That’s true, I guess.” Suga nods as well. “Well we are graduating soon. Daichi’s gonna need another term but—” His phone beeps and he pulls it out. “I’ll talk to you guys later, boyfriend calls.” He gives us a little wave and walks off.  
   
 That leaves us alone.  
   
 Oikawa goes quiet.  
   
 I nudge his shoulder with mine. “What’s wrong?”  
   
 “Nothing.”  
   
 “You’re not fooling me.”  
   
 “I said nothing!” he hisses and gets up, walking off.  
   
 I get up as well and frown. “Had fun?” I ask as I follow.  
   
 “I guess, had some fun.” Oikawa looks up. “Kind of sucked, but not too bad. I talked to Suga and Daichi… they seem… okay with me, you know, existing.”  
   
 “That’s good news.”  
   
 “Yeah.” Oikawa sighs. “Party was a distraction, anyway.”  
   
 We are silent the rest of the walk home.  
   
 “Hey,” I try to start conversation but Oikawa stays cold, silent—it’s distant and hollow, but not like before. This was on purpose. He’s got his defences up, whole fortress. He goes to his room and slams the door behind him.  
   
 I try not to think too much of it. I go to the bathroom and notice lipstick marks on my cheek. I try to wash it off but it doesn’t come off. What the fuck?  
   
 “Poseidon-onion boy can’t get the water to work?”  
   
 I look over to see Oikawa staring at me, but despite his joke he’s not laughing.  
   
 “Here,” he says as he pulls open a drawer. He pulls out a tissue (some kind of wet wipe?) and rubs it off my face.  
   
 “What is that?”  
   
 “Makeup remover.”  
   
 “Why do you have makeup remover?” I glance down to his drawer of our bathroom (the one he asked me not to go through). I see a lot of other things that don’t really make sense for him to have, but I decide not to ask.  
   
 “I saw you,” Oikawa says softly. “I mean… with that girl. On the bed.”  
   
 Oh.  
   
 He keeps his head down, but when I glance to the mirror I can see his eyes are wet.  
   
 “Oikawa…”  
   
 “Yeah?”  
   
 I fucked up.  
   
 But what do I say?  
   
 He goes back to his room, on his bed, curling up. I follow him, getting on as well. I put an arm around him, spooning him, pulling him close. “Tooru…”  
   
 “Was it good?” he asks honestly.  
   
 “It was alright.”  
   
 “Alright?”  
   
 “It was… distant, I guess. She was using me, I used her. It worked out.”  
   
 “Good,” Oikawa chokes on a hiccup, a sob, “Good for you.”  
   
 I nuzzle the back of his head. “It didn’t mean anything.”  
   
 “I know, I just—I…”  
   
 “What is it?”  
   
 “I saw you, with her, and it just… it hurt. Because, because I wanted to… God, Hajime, I felt so… destroyed. The kiss with Kageyama? That was nothing. Suga? Nothing. At least he’s a guy, you know? This, I just… After everything that’s happened recently, when I saw you with her, Hajime, I just… Your other girlfriends? You kept that away from me. But… but this, I… I wanted to be that girl. I wanted to… be beneath you, be more with you, you know? I mean, I know you would never—not with me, but…”  
   
 “I would,” I whisper.  
   
 “Still.” He shakes his head. “It wouldn’t work. I know that. _You_ know that.”  
   
 “Well… maybe it can.”  
   
 “No, no! You don’t understand, okay? When I saw you guys, I just… I wanted to be that girl, the way she was, and—”  
   
 I turn him over, I kiss him—finally me, kissing him—but he pushes me away.  
   
 “You’re not listening!” He turns away from me. “I wanted…”  
   
 I stop, trying to see what I’m not seeing, and then… He’s on his back now, and I lift myself to hover over him. “You… Wait.” All those times he stares at himself in the mirror, the stuff in his bathroom drawer, the way he slumps down when we hug… suddenly him singing Single Ladies in his underwear to feel better about himself isn’t as funny. “Wait… are you saying, you want to _be_ … a girl?”  
   
 Oikawa flinches, as if I was about to hit him. To be honest… I don’t really get it, but… I mean I guess he was holding this in from me, but did he think I would actually… attack him or something?  
   
 He chokes on a sob and I lift a hand, wiping his eyes. “Okay,” I whisper.  
   
 “Okay?” he replies. “You’re…”  
   
 “You want to be a girl?”  
   
 “You’re not… mad?”  
   
 “Mad?” I tilt my head. “To be honest, Tooru, I… I’m not really sure. I mean I can’t really… I have no idea you’re thinking or feeling, ever, so I don’t know if this helps, but I feel like I should be surprised.”  
   
 He swallows hard. “Should be?”  
   
 “Yeah. I’m not too surprised… I should be, right? I mean, I can see you as a girl, I guess…”  
   
 Oikawa stares at me.  
   
 “Did I say something wrong?”  
   
 He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “Could you… hold me?”  
   
 I smile. “That, I know how to do.” I pull him close, letting him nuzzle my neck. The hug is tight and I can feel his heartbeat, a little erratic, but calming down. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
   
 “I don’t know…”  
   
 “Have you… told anyone?”  
   
 He shakes his head.  
   
 “Why not?”  
   
 “Because I…” Oikawa closes his eyes. “You said it, when we fought… when you were trying to be cool, calling me Hades or something… I’ll never be happy. If I see someone else happy and I’m not happy, I’ll just compare myself. I’ll never be happy, Hajime. Even if I’m trans, so what if I want to be a girl? Even if I transitioned, got surgery, took the shots, whatever, or even if I woke up tomorrow and I suddenly _was_ a girl… what if I’m still not happy? What if this won’t make me happy? What if… I’m never happy, Hajime? I’ll never be happy, can’t be happy. I’ll find another reason to be jealous, to be sad, to be… destructive. I’ll always be a horrible person. I’ll still be broken.”  
   
 He slumps against me, as if he gives up.  
   
 I’m not sure what to say, but I know Oikawa Tooru is not a horrible person.  
   
 So… I do the only thing I know how to do.  
   
 “Did I ever tell you about Hestia?”  
   
 “Who? The girl you studied math with?”  
   
 “What?” I stare. “No that was Hatsue. I mean Hestia. She’s one of the goddesses.”  
   
 “Dead Greek?”  
   
 “Dead Greek… Well deities are eternal, technically.”  
   
 “So just a normal Greek.”  
   
 “Normal Greek.”  
   
 “But Goddess Greek?”  
   
 “Goddess Greek.”  
   
 Oikawa mutters, “More shitty mythology… at a time like this.”  
   
 “Yeah. More shitty mythology.” I smile, kissing the tip of his nose, which makes him smile. His smile gives me butterflies and heat flashes and that feeling you get when you realise a cat really likes you. “She’s one of the least well-known Olympian. In fact a lot of people replace her with Dionysus. He’s a little more interesting, I guess. He invented wine.”  
   
 “Wine’s pretty interesting,” he agrees. “Wasn’t wine, but we had some cheap beer today.”  
   
 “We did.”  
   
 “It tasted like piss.”  
   
 “Yeah.”  
   
 “So.” Oikawa nudges me. “What’s Hestia?”  
   
 “She’s the Goddess of Hearth. Hearth, fires, like campfires and fireplaces. She’s the Goddess of the Hearth, but since the hearth stands for the kind of belonging-warmth, you could also call her the Goddess of Home. Of feeling safe, accepted, loved. Some people say that’s the best medicine of all, right? But there’s more to it than that.”  
   
 Oikawa smiles. “Realist.”  
   
 I laugh. It’s true. “I… admit I don’t know what it’s like, to want to be a chick… or whatever. But… Oikawa.” No. “But, Tooru…” I pull him in tight, as tight as I can. “You’re still my best friend, no matter what.” I kiss his cheek. “And, I…” It really is the point of no return, huh? “I love you… I always have.”  
   
 Oikawa’s face softens, eyes filling with tears again.  
   
 “It’s why none of my relationships last: I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even with Koushi, I… I mean.” I sigh. “I’m not saying it’s a quick fix. _Quick fixes don’t exist for real problems_ , but I always felt like I was home when I was with you. So I’ll make sure… you feel like you’re home—safe, accepted, loved—when you’re with me. You’ve always been Hestia to me.”  
   
 “Goddess.”  
   
 I don’t miss the subtle emphasis on _-ess_. I move some hair out of his eyes so I can see him better. “And you’re right… you do get jealous, and you never are happy. Maybe you won’t be happy even if you have a girl’s body, but fuck Tooru… you’re not _doomed_ either. Hearth means warmth, warmth means hope… so I won’t give up on you.”  
   
 Oikawa swallows hard; his hands are shaking.  
   
 “You’ll get better,” I say softly.  
   
 Tears are flowing from his eyes, falling freely, and he gives a little nod. “I… love you, Hajime.”  
   
 My heart flutters and warmth rises from everywhere. I can’t help it. I kiss him, softly, and he kisses back desperately.  
   
 The kiss made Tooru cry more but he—she?—needs to get it out, so I don’t mind too much.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Lesser, Unnamed_**  
   
 “I should have tried harder,” he says much later that night.  
   
 It must be past four in the morning, but neither of us have slept yet. We haven’t moved, either. We just felt each other, held each other.  
   
 “I wish I was a genius,” Oikawa goes on, “I wish I was the kind of person who didn’t have to study to get their grades. And I got jealous, of Suga, who studied more than I did, and got better marks. Not just Suga, but other people too… I hate them because they’re kinder, nicer… They never get too tired to help people, like I do.”  
   
 “You’re not a bad person,” I mutter, making him smile. “We’re not obligated to help anyone.”  
   
 “I know… but I always make excuses, in my head, and focus on me. I wanted… I wanted Tobio-chan and Shrimpy-chan to look up to me, the same way they looked up to others, but I never put the time or the effort into guiding them, helping them. I never helped Shou-chan with choosing his courses. You’re right… I get jealous of people who work harder than I do. No, not harder… they just, spend more time in certain things, and then I get jealous when I don’t get the same reaction.”  
   
 “Hm.” I kiss his forehead, knowing all of it was true. Nobody’s perfect, but we all have to face our flaws.  
   
 “You know what else, Iwa-chan? I think I want to be adored… Is that, is that… immature?”  
   
 “No. Adored means being accepted, loved, respected, right? If you want absolutely everyone in the world to adore you… that’s kind of narrow-minded, but why shouldn’t your close friends adore you? I adore you.”  
   
 “Do you adore Suga?”  
   
 “Yes.”  
   
 “I do too.”  
   
 “Yeah?”  
   
 “He helps old ladies cross the street, for Christ’s sake…”  
   
 I chuckle. “Yeah. He does.”  
   
 “I want to be a better person, Iwa-chan… a nicer person.”  
   
 “What are you going to do about it?”  
   
 “I don’t know… Can you help me figure it out?”  
   
 “Always.”  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Marriage, Women, Unity_**  
   
 For twenty-ish years I called Tooru a boy. It’s hard to adjust, and I admit I keep making plenty of mistakes, but she’s patient with me. She. It fits, better, I think. Hestia was one side of Tooru, but it didn’t feel that the goddess encompassed all that she was. Hestia was the feeling between us. When I am with her, it feels warm and safe. The feelings I had missed for so long. I’m still trying to pin down which God or Goddess (and I don’t really think the gender matters; personally I’ve always felt closest to Athena, myself) Tooru embodies. It’s hard, but it’s a kind of game I play with myself, I guess.  
   
 About being a girl, Tooru asked me not to tell people, at first. Of course I go along with whatever she wants. It’s her life, and I’m just lucky she wants to live it next to me. She said she wants to “Try it out with me” first. I don’t really know what she means, but I guess she’s probably second guessing herself. She’s forced herself to be a guy for so many years, I… I don’t know. I can’t imagine what it’s like. I’m just glad she looks forward to telling me all about the person she is.  
   
 I guess there really are things we don’t know about each other.  
   
 I’ve tried to do some research on the topic (Shouyou is very eager to help), so I’m getting a hold on it slowly. Tooru’s just happy that I accepted her right away, so she doesn’t mind my slip-ups.  
   
 Tooru also has a pretty strong grasp on her issues. She knows the fact that her identity can’t be expressed as easily torments her, but that’s not her only problem. She’s not using it as an excuse. She knows she’s fucked up. She knows she’s hurt people. She’s taking responsibility for her actions. Slowly, she’s started reaching out to Daichi and Suga again.  
   
 Suga pulls me aside one day. “He seems different lately.”  
   
 “He is,” I say, though it hurts to call him a guy, but I promised I wouldn’t out him.  
   
 She’s agreed to start seeing a therapist, both about her gender identity and the “side of her that’s not really that nice” as she says. She went on and on about the different types of therapy (Psych students…) but, anyway. She found a clinic around here that focuses on strategies from one type of therapy (cognitive, I think?) but incorporates others too. She thinks it would work best for her. When she asked her parents for money to see a therapist, they seemed stunned but they said if she needs to see one then they’ll pay for it.  
   
 One less bill we have to worry about.  
   
 Bless family, or something.  
   
 I keep thinking back to one night where she clutched my arm, scared, horrified, and made me promise—begged me—that I would be there for her.  
   
 Things have their ups and downs, but I’ll be by her side.  
   
 I hate it in novels and movies and plays or whatever when people say that they’ll be together forever. It’s bullshit, really. But now, at night, when it’s just the two of us watching a movie… She’s curled up on my side, using me as a pillow. I steal a glance of her face and realise she kind of reminds me, just a little, of Hera. Zeus’ wife. Goddess of Marriage, Family, and Women. Goddess of Unity. I hate it when people say they’re going to have ‘forever’ but…  
   
  _We’ve lasted twenty years,_ I reason with the goddess (A.K.A. just talking to myself in my head), _Give us another twenty, maybe forty, maybe more, together._  
   
 I don’t believe in soulmates and never will. I don’t believe anything is pre-ordained or that anyone is destined to be with anyone. Love is hard work. If someone wants it to work out then they have to pour everything they have into that relationship. There’s no ‘the one’ that will suddenly come by and make everything easy and you can stop trying because it’s fate. It’s hard work.  
   
 There’s no such thing as fate. No such thing as soulmates. We’re not soulmates. We were just two kids that met when we were young. “Our houses were close” was our excuse, but that’s not the only reason. There were lots of kids near us (most of whom I’ve forgotten), but Tooru was the only one I liked. Not only was she cool, but she was quirky and cute. Like me, back then, she was a bit of a loser, but unlike me—she didn’t care. When someone pushed her down on the playground and told her aliens weren’t cool, she got back up and laughed, saying _of course_ they were cool. She corrected them, as if it was objective truth, very proudly.  
   
 And so aliens were cool.  
   
 I’m not dumb enough to believe in love at first sight, but I knew from the first time I met her that I was at least interested in talking to her again, if not somewhat infatuated. It wasn’t _love_ , though. Love’s complicated. Love’s delicate. Real love takes time… that happened gradually.  
   
 Through elementary school, when we held hands on field trips…  
   
 Through middle school, when were still holding hands…  
   
 Through high school, when—yep—we still held hands from time to time…  
   
 Through university… yeah. It’s kind of lame, but we hold hands.  
   
 Often, actually.  
 

* * *

  
   
  ** _Love, Beauty, Sexuality_**  
   
 Eight months have passed. I’ve got my Bachelor’s, got into a program that puts Master’s and Doctorate together… which is amazing, but it’s really competitive. I’m always on my toes but it’s also kind of fun. Tooru is taking some time off before she goes for her Master’s degree. With her face-to-face therapy and her hormone-replacement therapy (the estrogen shots she takes), things are going well. She came out to her parents. Her mom was supportive, said she always had a feeling, while her dad said it didn’t matter—she was still their kid so she should be calling more.  
   
 She cried her eyes out that night, expecting complete rejection.  
   
 She came out to my parents as well. My mom hugged her super tight, while my dad told her she can borrow my mom’s clothes since Momma Iwaizumi gained some weight. My parents devolved into playful banter after that, forgetting we were there, but that’s normal at my place.  
   
 Eight months…  
   
 Kageyama and Tooru get along pretty well now, actually. They both work at the same coffee shop, covering each other’s shifts and getting close. Kageyama works part-time, Oikawa full-time. Hinata, the little social justice warrior, is always ready to throw his terminology and guidance at Oikawa. That orange fluff ball is pretty cute, but only a little bit helpful. Still, I think Tooru is touched by how on board he was.  
   
 Oh, get this: Suga and Daichi are actually _engaged_ now. They admit they’re a little young for it, but they have to wait until it’s legal here anyway.  
   
 Kozume came back from China; he actually came back to open up a branch of the company here in Japan, the company he was interning for I mean. Things are going well for him. He actually ended up dating Kunimi of all people. It wasn’t what I thought would happen, but they’re kind of quiet and cute together. Apparently it started when Kunimi kept catching Kenma’s quiet remarks everyone else ignored and Kunimi found him hilarious.  
   
 “Iwa-chan.”  
   
 I look up from my phone.  
   
 There’s my girl, Tooru, in a white skirt and blue shirt. She puts on a black cardigan on top and I swear I’m breathless. She’s got a touch of makeup on too, and fuck… I don’t know how long I was staring but Tooru started doing that little hip shaking thing she does when I’m making her wait (her newest habit, very mesmerising).  
   
 “What?”  
   
 “I asked how do I look?”  
   
 “Honestly? Just… fantastic.”  
   
 Tooru grins. “Do I take your breath away, Iwa-chan?”  
   
  _Yes._ “No.”  
   
 “Liar.”  
   
 I can’t help but laugh. I get out of my chair. I’m all dressed up in a suit for our dinner tonight. And then it hits me. I figure out which deity Oikawa Tooru is. People always make her into some kind of whore sex goddess, but when I think about Suga who openly loves without sex I can’t help but feel that’s wrong. Love is love. The word leaves my lips far too easily: “Aphrodite.”  
   
 Tooru blinks. “Huh?”  
   
 “Nothing.” I turn away, face going red. That’s not to say the most beautiful woman of all time and Goddess of Love, Aphrodite, can’t also be a sex goddess—and the sex between Tooru and I? Well let’s just say if we were getting a grade on it, we’d call the course a GPA boost—but love, that feeling when I’m with her…  
   
 Aphrodite.  
   
 My Aphrodite.  
   
 “Come on.” I offer my arm. “Let’s go.”  
   
 It won’t be easy, but things are getting better—little by little.  
   
 She takes my arm and smiles. “Such a manly-man, Iwa-chan.”  
   
 “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I can’t help but lean over and steal a kiss. “I love you, you know that?”  
   
 Tooru grins, wide. “I love you too… now, come on… don’t want to be late for our reservation, do we?”  
   
 “No.” I can’t help but smile. “No we don’t.”


End file.
